Basil's American Tail
by Masked Bard
Summary: In 1886, Basil of Baker Street, fresh off of busting Ratigan's latest heist at the British Museum, travels to New York City in search of stolen artifacts which he discovered had been sold on the black market. Upon his arrival he's assigned someone from the NYPD to be his body guard, who, as Basil deduces, is actually a woman in disguise, a reporter named Nellie Brie.
1. Chapter 1

**New York City, 1886**

Puffing upon his wooden pipe, Basil of Baker Street, England's premier mouse detective, exited the gangplank of the ship docked at Castle Garden carrying a large suitcase, careful to dodge the feet of the much larger human immigrants and tourists from London. Basil wasn't here as an immigrant of course, he fancied jolly ol' England just fine. Nor was he here on vacation either; he had very little time for such extravagances when there were criminals lurking about. No, it was a case which had led him to take the long voyage across the Atlantic Ocean.

The case, as it were, involved several valuable items stolen from the British Museum by Ratigan and his thugs, including jewels, a collection of antique Italian mirrors from the Renaissance era, and an ancient Greek statue of the goddess Athena. Ratigan had managed to slip right through Basil's fingers once again, unfortunately, but he did capture one of Ratigan's underlings during a police raid of Ratigan's hideout. The mouse revealed during an interrogation with police that what items hadn't been recovered during the raid had been sold to an eccentric cat in America, who by his accounts had brown fur, a gold tooth, spoke in a New Jersey accent, and was obsessed with "culture". It was now Basil's job to find and apprehend this feline for purchasing stolen items off the black market, and to retrieve the items and make sure they got back to England safely. Although the crime largely concerned stolen human items, and felines were normally out of Basil's jurisdiction, he was now the only detective for the job. The only other detective nearly as good as he was, Sherlock Holmes, wouldn't be able to, being a human who had little if any idea of animal society, so far as Basil knew.

"Greetings…(hic), Basil of Baker Street…" came the voice of a large, mustachioed mouse in a top hat, who by the looks of things had had far too much to drink, "Welcome to America!"

Basil raised an eyebrow, "And who may I ask are you?"

"Honest John's the name." he said, taking his hat off for a bow, "I run things on this side of town."

"Ah yes, an elected official. I was told I'd be meeting you at the docks." Basil said, "Good to see democracy is working out so well here in the States."

Basil was being sarcastic of course, but he knew in his drunken stupor it would go right over Honest John's head.

"Oh of course! Y'oughtta try it sometime over in England." Honest John said in his slurred Irish accent, drinking some more beer, "Anyways, come with me to Tammany Hall, we'll talk with the police chief and discuss yer livin' arrangements while yer here with us in New York."

"Ah yes, indeed. I do hope you've been searching for potential suspects in the crime." Basil stressed.

"Well we found a cat who might know another cat. Best t'have the police chief explain it to ye, laddy. (Hiccup!) Excuse me."

Honest John led Basil out of the immigration building, where immigrant mice faced their first disillusionment with America by having their names changed. Wait until they find out there really are cats here, Basil thought. It was a shame the uneducated masses fell for such an obvious ploy to get immigrants to come to America. Most in England were savvy enough to know better.

Outside there was a carriage parked on the street, a human one of course pulled by a horse. The smaller one made for mice was mounted onto the bottom. Honest John and Basil climbed inside, and after a wait the humans who'd ordered the carriage got in and it got moving. Basil didn't speak much during the ride, as Honest John continued to guzzle booze he stared out the window, taking in the surroundings and observing every detail, his deductive mind soaking everything in like a sponge in case he'd need to navigate these streets later. He also kept an eye out for any suspects. New York was a fairly dirty city, at least downtown was. The impoverished mice who'd come from horrible conditions fared little better here. The streets were not paved with cheese; there was more horse manure to be found in the streets than cheese. Crime wasn't hard to observe even from his window. His keen eyes noticed shoplifters and pick-pockets, all before their victims knew what had hit them.

Once they got to Tammany Hall, the wagon stopped, and Basil and Honest John had to quickly hop off before it moved again. Honest John led Basil as he carried his suitcase toward the doors and they entered Honest John's office, where a group of police officers were waiting to meet with him.

"Well then, I take it this is New York's best, hm?" Basil asked.

"Chief McBrusque at yer service lad." said the Chief, a rotund mouse with long red sideburns and a Scottish accent. He carried a wooden club and tapped the end of it in the palm of his other hand, "We'll make sure yer well taken care of during yer stay. Any mouse so much as looks at ya funny, and _whap_!"

He swung his wooden club in the air.

"That _probably_ won't be necessary, Chief…" Basil replied. My what ruffians cops were in the States!

"Well just in case, we hired ye an assistant to go with ye while yer investigatin'." said McBrusque, "His name's Officer Bob Rodentstein. He's new on the job but he won't let you down. Or _else."_

The policeman in question stepped forward. He had a long beard, and jasmine-green eyes. Basil looked the cop over, suddenly wearing an amused smirk.

"I assure you, the help isn't necessary." Basil said.

"New York ain't like London, Basil. The mice can be just as dangerous as the cats." Honest John said, "I think you better take the help."

"Oh very well then. This police_man_ can carry my luggage on the way to my living quarters." he said, putting an odd emphasis on the word 'man'.

"Oh yes, about that. We got ye a nice apartment over on Hester Street. Second floor, away from the cats." Honest John said.

"Very nice." said Basil, "And you said something about a potential suspect? Or someone who knew this suspect?"

"Our volunteer will tell you all about that." said McBrusque, "As for me, I got some more skulls to crack out on the streets. Be seein' ya."

McBrusque led his men out of the room while Officer Rodentstein stayed behind.

"Charming." Basil said, clearing his throat, "Right then, I'll check back here or with the police the moment I have a new lead."

"See to it that you do. Now if you'll be excusing' me, I have some wakes to attend. These cat attacks just aren't stopping, no matter how much we pay that scoundrel Warren T. Rat." Honest John said.

"Is there some sort of protection racket going on?" Basil asked.

"Warren is one of the 'community leaders'. He's a rat who negotiates with the cats. Every mouse pays him to keep the cats away. Been doin' us no good lately."

Basil stroked his chin. Things were worse than he feared in New York. But, it probably had nothing to do with his case. He was after a cat, not a rat.

"Alright Officer Rodentstein, my suit case." he said, handing it to the cop, who let out a grunt at it's heaviness, "You'll need to show me around, I've no idea where Hester Street is."

"Will do, sir. It's…within walking distance." said Rodentstein in a voice Basil could tell was being forced lower. He opened the door and they left Tammany Hall, staying close to the walls of buildings to avoid the shoes of humans.


	2. Chapter 2

Officer Bob Rodentstein huffed and strained carrying Basil's large suitcase as they made their way up the stairs to Basil's temporary apartment, the mouse-sized steps hidden within the walls of the much larger human-sized building. To someone of their size a two-story building might as well have been a sky scraper. It took several flights of stairs to make it all the way up.

"Please do hurry up, Bob. We haven't got all day and I want to begin my investigation immediately." Basil said, thinking the less time spent in this depressing city the better.

"Honestly, what did you put in this thing?" Rodentstein asked irritably as she trailed behind Basil.

"Oh just a few essentials, some lab equipment, a disguise, my violin…"

The heavily bearded officer rolled his eyes as he dragged the suitcase up the steps. Finally they reached the top, and Basil used the key they'd been given in the lobby to open the door to his room. The room had two bedrooms and a living room, one bedroom for each of them Basil supposed. There was a small glass window carved through the wall, one which luckily had gone undetected by the unobservant humans. It overlooked the busy cobblestone street below, and the tall metal train tracks across the street which spread through the city.

Rodentstein dropped the suitcase and collapsed onto an armchair in front of the fireplace in exhaustion, panting.

Basil picked up the suitcase and opened it, carefully sorting through its contents and placing them where they needed to be; the glass vials, beakers, small microscope and chemicals being placed on a table (a far cry from the massive chemical set he had at home, sadly), the extra clothing hung in the closet, and his violin atop the second armchair in the room. It was a bit of a bother not having a maid around, he wasn't used to doing this himself. Thinking about her gave him a strong craving for a cheese crumpet, something hard to come by on this side of the Atlantic, for whatever reason. He realized he'd need to do some grocery shopping by himself too, unless he could get his new 'assistant' to do it for him. What a bother that would be when he had so much work to do. You don't know what you have until it's gone. He resolved to give his maid a raise when he got back.

Along the way from Tammany Hall he'd picked up an issue of the local newspaper from a paperboy on the sidewalk, and now he took it out of the inside of his coat pocket and unrolled it.

"The best way to begin an investigation, I've found, is to scour the newspaper for clues." Basil said, sitting down, careful to remove the violin first, before unrolling the paper and scrolling its headlines, "Perhaps 'The Daily Nibbler' might have something on my suspect."

"The Daily Nibbler is an excellent resource for news around here." Rodentstein chimed in, finally catching his breath, "At least when that egomaniac editor Reed Daley isn't trying to stir up another sensational story."

Basil cast a glance in his direction, "Famous for that, is he?"

"Well…you just can't take everything he writes for granted." Rodentstein said with a little hesitation, "Anyway, erm, about the suspect we were going to interrogate."

He was changing the subject, Basil knew. But he'd been waiting for the officer to bring up who they'd need to track down. "Yes, who is it?"

"He's a cat so we'll need to be careful. He goes by the name Cat R. Waul." Rodentstein explained, "He only stays in town a few months a year, since his owner travels between New York and out west quite a lot. But if we're looking for a cat wealthy and eccentric enough to purchase stolen museum goods from this Ratigan fellow, he'd be a good place to start. Waul is also originally from England and may still have ties there, making him a possible accomplice himself."

"Hm, and what do we know about his possible whereabouts?" Basil asked, while reading over an article on a cat attack on a local Chinese laundry that had fallen on hard times and had been unable to forfeit enough profits to Warren T. Rat, leaving three mice dead. Positively dreadful what was going on in New York.

"He likes to hang around a nightclub in the Bronx with his posse. It's a cat-exclusive nightclub so unless you've got a cat disguise in that suitcase we'll need to improvise a way in. And getting to actually talk to Waul will be another matter entirely." Rodentstein explained.

"Sounds dangerous. But I've stood against worse odds in my career." Basil said nonchalantly, "I am interested in knowing whether or not this Waul character has any connection to Ratigan."

"So, do we leave for the Bronx tonight?" Rodentstein asked.

"Yes, we shall. Though I think it would be best if we wore disguises." Basil said.

"Disguises?"

"Indeed. We wouldn't want to give our identities away if something happens, would we?" Basil said, "By the way, your beard makes you too noticeable. Shave it off before we go."

Rodentstein blinked, "Sh-shave it off?"

"Yes. Or maybe you can shave it after we get back from the nightclub. Actually that's an even better idea. Then if someone sees you at the nightclub they won't recognize you later." Basil said, getting up from his chair and putting the newspaper down.

"But…but I can't…"

Basil tilted his head, "Why is that?"

"It's…it's too special to me." he said quickly.

"Too special? Why that's absurd! It'll grow in again, won't it?"

"Yes but-"

"Then what's the problem?"

"I…I just can't. I won't." he said firmly.

Basil walked up to his chair and bent down, causing the officer to scoot back against the chair as far as he could. Basil reached his hand out and began to stroke the beard.

"It is rather regal, isn't it? Yes, it looks good on you."

He tugged on the beard and pulled it back, revealing a string. He let go and it snapped back onto the officer's face.

"AHA!" Basil said, standing up straight and pointing a finger at the imposter, "As I suspected from the beginning! You are no police_man_. You are, in fact, a WOMAN!"

Trembling, she removed the beard and her police hat, revealing a fair face with raised cheeks, full lips, and only the softest peach-fuzz fur covering her complexion, her red hair done up in a bun to keep it hidden under the hat, "I should have known my disguise couldn't fool the great mouse detective."

Basil was not amused, "Who sent you?! Who do you work for?!"

"Calm down, Basil. I…I don't work for Ratigan." she insisted.

"Then who _do_ you work for?" Basil demanded.

"I…" she glanced over at the newspaper on Basil's chair, "I work for The Daily Nibbler."

"Oh, is that it then? An undercover reporter? Here to snoop on me and sell the story to the newspapers eh?" Basil said, drawing back a bit, "How do I know you're telling the truth?"

Her jade eyes turned from Basil to the newspaper again, "L-look for my advice column in there, you should find a picture of me."

He slowly walked backwards toward the newspaper, not taking his eyes off the imposter in case she tried to pull a gun on him or something of that nature. He picked the paper up, trying to keep one eye on her and one on the paper as he thumbed through its pages. She showed no signs of moving, she only watched. Finally he came to the advice column.

"Ask Nellie…" he said as he looked it over. Someone had written to her about having recurring nightmares in the column, whereupon her advice had been that there was nothing in the dark that wasn't there with the lights turned on, and that it was best to get the facts on something you were afraid of. Sure enough, there was a black and white photograph at the top of the column, matching this woman's description, "So you're Nellie Brie. _The_ Nellie Brie."

"Yes, I'm _the_ Nellie Brie. Heard of me?" she asked.

"Oh don't think the news of your undercover exploits haven't reached Britain." Basil answered, "I must admit I found the methods you used in your undercover report on corruption in New York mental institutions last year quite impressive. And you must have had to fool quite a few mice with your disguise to end up being assigned to assist me."

"Don't get me wrong Basil. It wasn't about you, at first." Nellie said, "I was going to do a big article on police brutality and corruption in the NYPD. You saw how maniacal that Chief McBrusque is. So I used the disguise, went through police training at a police academy, and joined the force. I've found evidence that McBrusque has been taking under-the-table bribes from factory and sweatshop owners, on top of overstepping his bounds and roughing up innocent civilians. I was about ready to publish the article, thus blowing my disguise, when news came that you were coming here from England to work on a big case."

"And the story was too big to pass up." Basil said irritably.

"They were taking volunteers to see who was going to show you around and watch your back while you were here, and well…on a complete whim mind you…I decided to volunteer and do a story on it." Nellie confessed, "But listen, I meant you no harm. I'm on your side. I hate crime as much as you do, and I really want to help make this city a better place to live. Maybe I can help you. I want to, really I do."

Basil could tell she was being sincere, although it annoyed him that she thought she'd be able to get away with tricking him with a disguise and printing a story about him right under his nose. It wasn't even a very good disguise either, in Basil's opinion. But it had proven affective up until she met him, so maybe she could keep it when she went along with him.

"Alright then, 'assistant'. I'll give you a chance." Basil said.

She gave a smile, "Thank you Basil. I will do my best. You'll need someone who knows the area."

"Very well then, put that beard back on. I think this calls for our first outing."

"But the club won't open until tonight." Nellie said questioningly.

"I know that." Basil scoffed, "We're going grocery shopping. We can hone your detective skills by having you find out if they sell my kind of tea in America. Bonus points if you can find me a cheese crumpet."

Nellie fastened her fake beard back on, "It just so happens I know just the place to go for cheese crumpets."

"Well then, I'd say this is the start of a very successful partnership." Basil said with a grin, politely opening the door for the lady.


	3. Chapter 3

When Basil and Nellie came back they both carried bags with them. After buying some food at the market Nellie had taken Basil to a British-themed pub downtown that served cheese crumpets as appetizers, and they'd bought a stockpile of them. There was an ice box in the tiny kitchen for them to keep their food in, and a stove with which to heat it up later. Basil had also purchased a nice tea pot.

"Very well then, I think you've proven yourself a worthy partner," Basil said.

"The honor is all mine," replied Nellie as she removed her fake beard.

"So, as per our agreement, you help me wrap up this case and show me the ins and outs of New York, and I'll let you write your big scoop on the whole thing after it's all said and done."

"Why thank you," Nellie said, "I must say I never thought I'd be working with Basil of Baker Street of all people, but you can count on me. We'll nab this cat."

By this time it was late afternoon, but night wouldn't be too far off.

"Right then, how are we getting to this nightclub?" Basil asked, at once thankful to have someone who knew her way around, as much as having to rely on someone else got in the way of his pride as a detective. Were he doing this alone, he'd be spending this time memorizing road maps and looking for a lead.

"There's a trolley that goes that way, we'll just need to catch it," Nellie said, "The next one comes by Hester Street in about twenty minutes."

"You've memorized the trolley schedule? How impressive," Basil remarked, "You'll be fit to be a nice, deductive private investigator yet.'

"As you'll recall I already graduated a police academy for this undercover report, so yes, at this point I likely could be a private eye if I wanted to be. But I have different goals in mind. We should get going soon, it will take a while to get to where the trolley stops."

Basil went through the closet and put on his disguise; a black trench coat with a wide-brimmed hat, and a fake moustache. Nellie giggled at the sight.

"Nice moustache."

"Nice beard," Basil scoffed.

"I suppose I can be a policeman and you can be my prisoner."

"Ah, no. I thought about that. But I don't think a policeman would be quite welcome in an establishment like this," Basil said, taking long brown coat he always wore, and a bowler hat from the closet, tossing it to Nellie.

"Oh, nice thinking," Nellie said, taking off the long coat and hat on her police uniform and replacing it with Basil's coat. It was a nice fit. The bowler hat covered her hair as well.

"You look like a rather strapping gentleman now if I do say so myself. Well, close enough to one at any rate."

"What was it that gave my disguise away, if I may ask?" Nellie questioned as she opened the door for them to leave down the stairs.

"Hm? Well, the first thing I noticed were your eyes, of course."

"Really? How did that give me away? she asked.

"Oh they didn't really give you away, they were just the first thing I noticed," Basil commented, "Your eyes are, well…attention grabbing, yes."

"There's not much I can do about that," she said, trying to decide if that were meant to be a concealed, shy compliment or not.

"And then of course, your more feminine body proportions; the smaller hands and feet, the wide hips," Basil went on as they walked down the long flights of stairs, "All the gender-defining mouse traits were there, not well enough hidden by your police uniform. All this made that fake beard very comical indeed. Though I will have to commend the job you did at concealing your chest, bound with tight bandages I presume, if you don't mind my being so bold."

"Well I did ask, and you're right," Nellie replied, rolling her eyes.

"I'll have to guess that was probably what made your disguise at all affective this whole time, along with the beard hiding most of your face."

"Do you think I'll be okay in this tonight?" Nellie asked, feeling somewhat worried now that Basil had picked apart her disguise.

"Not to worry. It's gotten you this far. You know, it's quite hilarious you were able to graduate a _police academy_ like that," Basil mused with a chuckle.

"Just goes to show those nay-sayers that women can do anything men can do," she said proudly as they reached the bottom of the stairs and walked through the lobby to the doors. They reached the outside, back to the noisy streets, the air filled with the sound of hooves clopping on the cobblestone streets and humans rushing by.

"You encounter that barrier often, do you?" Basil asked.

"Let's just say reporting isn't exactly a woman-dominated field. I've had to scratch and claw to get to where I am today. It's not always easy when people have old-fashioned attitudes about women in the workplace. When I first got into the business they wanted me to cover fashion or gardening or high society and dull topics like that. I wanted action, I wanted to bring facts to the citizens of New York." Nellie gave a disgusted sigh, "It's a good thing my editor Reed Daley knew real talent when he saw it, or else I might be investigating frilly dresses instead of uncovering corruption and trying to make a difference in this town."

"I think that's highly admirable," Basil said as they walked along, "In all my studies of biology, anatomy and psychology I see no reason for there being such inequalities in society. We're all just as capable, it's unscientific and foolish to think otherwise."

"Exactly! Why can't more men be like you and Reed? Although, Reed just keeps me around because my stories sell. You saw for yourself he still has me answering those advice column letters while I'm on this big undercover case because he needs my name somewhere in every issue, lest his precious sales go down."

"Yes, I believe you voiced some complaints about him earlier," Basil noted.

Soon they came upon a group of humans waiting near a bench on the sidewalk.

"That must be the stop," Nellie said.

They hopped down into the gutter and continued on, joining a group of grungy city mice also waiting for the trolley. They blended in with the crowd. After a few minutes the trolley came along, following rails in the streets and guided by electrical wires hanging above it. The mice hopped onto the bottom where there were cars designated for mice. It was fortunate that the humans never bothered to look underneath the trolleys.

Basil and Nellie took a seat together as the trolley got going again.

"Superb invention, these trolleys. No horse needed," Basil said, "We call them trams in England you know."

"Who knows, one day we might not even need horses at all," Nellie suggested.

The trolley rode on, making various stops. The sun was setting by the time they made it to their stop at the Bronx. It'd be almost time for the club to open soon. Basil and Nellie hopped off onto the sidewalk. The streets were quieter here, and the stillness gave them a sense of cautiousness, the kind a mouse often gets when there might be cats lurking about.

"We'll be looking for a human pub," Nellie said, "The cats have their own nightclub in the basement. I don't know how we're going to sneak in."

"There's always a way, as long as one can think," said Basil.

Nellie pointed at a tavern across the street and down the block a ways, with lively music coming from it as humans walked through the doors and came out of them drunkenly, "That's the place."

"Right then. When we're there, you will refer to me by the name…Phineas Baldrick," Basil said, "You may pick any name you like so long as it's male."

"Alright then, I'll be…hmm…John Watson." she decided after some thought.

"Very original," Basil replied with playful sarcasm, knowing exactly who she'd gotten the name from.

Looking both ways before they did so, they darted across the street toward the travel. As they did, a horse and carriage pulled up to the tavern. Nellie and Basil hurried up to the sidewalk and bolted around the corner of the building, for very good reason. As the human passengers disembarked, a gray female cat wearing the dress of a saloon singer with a feather on her head hopped down from the top carrying a purse. She cleared her throat.

"Anotha night on da job," she sighed in a Brooklyn accent, putting the purse on the ground for a moment so she could stretch, "Hope dat big orange cat from Warren's gang shows up again tonight. Might actually make dis horrible gig worth somethin'."

Basil's calculating mind thought up a plan in an instant.

"Quick, into her purse Watson."

She blinked, taking a few seconds to remember that she was Watson now, "Wait, are you insane? She'll have us for dinner!"

"Trust me!" Basil said before darting on all fours and climbing into the purse. He peeked out over the edge.

Nellie gulped nervously before following Basil, quickly scampering over to the bag. Basil held his hand out to pull her inside.

"Well, let's get 'dis show on da road." the cat said, picking the purse up and walking around the corner to an alley, where two muscular cats were standing guard.

"Stop right there toots. Ya got a membaship?"

"Step aside boys, ya bother me." she replied, walking toward the entrance, a window at ground level that led to the basement.

"Uhh, oh, it's Miss Kitty." said one cat.

"Oh, so it is. Right dis way, Miss Kitty." the other said, opening the window for her. She slipped inside, unaware of the two passengers she was carrying.


	4. Chapter 4

Miss Kitty walked into her dressing room with the purse, giving Nellie and Basil a bumpy ride. The smell of perfume inside the bag was intoxicating, but Basil explained that it would be useful for masking their smell. Cats could smell mice from anywhere.

"What are we going to do when she opens the bag?" Nellie asked in a whisper, "I really don't like this idea."

"Relax, we'll be out of here before she opens it," Basil assured her. "We just need to wait for the right instant."

Miss Kitty finally placed the purse down on a desk and opened a drawer for some lipstick to apply it in front of the mirror. Basil deduced upon hearing the sounds of the drawer opening and then the light smacking of her lips as she applied the lipstick that she'd be opening the purse for her makeup and perfume any moment now.

"Okay Watson, I'm going to peek and make sure she's preoccupied. If you see me leap from the bag you are to follow behind immediately, and we will jump into the open drawer which if my calculations are correct will be to our left."

"Nice to see you're on top of things," she said, her tone lacking in confidence.

Basil peeked through the top of Miss Kitty's purse. She was busy brushing her hair now, humming a show tune to herself.

Basil glanced back at Nellie for a moment before quickly jumping out, expecting her to follow. Nellie took a breath and jumped out as well, the two of them scurrying madly into the drawer and jumping in. They moved back in the drawer, careful not to be visible.

"See? I told you I'd get us out. Just trust me," Basil said with a grin.

"You can have my congratulations when we get out of this situation with our fur still intact."

At that moment they could hear Miss Kitty rustling through her purse. They hadn't left a moment too soon.

"Okay okay, so you did get us out of there right on time," Nellie admitted, "But what are we going to do now? Even if we do find Waul what's to stop him from eating us on the spot?"

"I suppose we'll spy on him," said Basil, "At least until we can find some safe method of interrogating him."

"I really expected England's best detective to be better at planning ahead."

"We mustn't let the fear win, Watson. And it sounds to me like you're frightened."

"Only fools are fearless." Nellie replied.

The drawer jerked open suddenly. Nellie and Basil scurried to the very back as Miss Kitty's paw rummaged through the various self beautification products she kept in there.

"What'd I do wit' that make-up brush?"

Basil motioned to the wooden board that formed the back of the drawer, "We'll climb over this board and drop down to the drawer beneath us," he whispered, "Give me a boost and I'll pull you up."

Quickly, Nellie locked her hands together so that Basil could place his foot in them and lift up from there. He was heavy, but she held tight as he climbed to the top. He then held his arm down for her to grab. But, the drawer jerked as Miss Kitty opened it wider. Basil lost his footing, and slipped off, into the drawer below them.

"_Basil!" _she whispered sharply, trying in vain to jump to the top of the board.

She thought she could hear a faint 'Confound it!' from below. Basil couldn't help her now.

"Ah, is 'dis it? I think so."

She felt Miss Kitty's fingers clasp around her hips, and suddenly Nellie was jerked into the air. Miss Kitty absent-mindedly opened her make-up and brushed Nellie into the fine colored powder she used to add blush to her cheeks, the dust collecting in the fake beard. Nellie's body kept perfectly stiff, and she tried her hardest not to sneeze. But as she was brushed face-first against Miss Kitty's cheek, she could no longer hold it in. She sneezed, just as the beard fell off due to being rubbed against Miss Kitty's fur.

Miss Kitty looked down at the 'brush' she'd been using and shrieked, dropping Nellie on the desk. She landed on her hands and knees with a painful wince, coughing, her face covered in pink powder.

"A mouse!" Miss Kitty exclaimed.

Nellie shakily got to her feet and backed away, her eyes wide with terror.

"Just what were you doin' in my drawer?!" Miss Kitty demanded.

Nellie couldn't bring her mouth to form words. She felt that this was the end for her.

There was a knock on the door to her dressing room.

"Are you alright in there, dearie?" came a British accent.

"Yeah yeah I'm fine! Scram will ya? I'm getting' ready for da show."

Grumbling could he heard from outside as whoever the voice belonged to left. Nellie's eyes darted around for an escape. Miss Kitty drew a breath, collecting herself after the startle Nellie gave her.

"Hey, it's alright little mouse, I don't like eatin' mice anyways," Miss Kitty said.

Nellie blinked, "Y-you don't?"

"Nah, I like fish. But what're ya doin' snoopin' around here for? Ya know yer in a cat's saloon don'tcha? Yer liable to get yerself made into an item on da menu."

Nellie didn't know if she could trust this cat, but she decided it best to give Miss Kitty an explanation.

"I'm…I'm on an undercover report," she said.

"Oh really? Is dat what you were doin' wearin' da beard? Say lemme get dat stuff off yer face, ya look like a clown," she chuckled, taking a handkerchief and licking it gently before wiping Nellie's face, "Now what in my dressing room would be interesting enough to report on?"

"I just needed a way inside, and your purse was the best way I could find," Nellie replied after Miss Kitty finished wiping her face clean.

"I see. Ya know you look awful familiar." Miss Kitty said.

"You might have heard of me. I'm Nellie Brie."

"Nellie Brie? Yeah I heard of ya's. I heard Warren complain about ya bustin up some of his sweatshops before. Dat rat comes in here sometimes with his gang. I'm hopin' some of 'em come in tonight."

"Well my colleague and I were looking for a cat by the name of Cat R. Waul," Nellie explained.

"Oh him? Yeah he's here. So yer not here alone then?"

"Oh, no I believe you'll find him in the second drawer," Nellie said, hoping Basil didn't mind being pointed out. After all, this cat did seem friendly enough, and if she were going to eat her she'd have done it by now.

Miss Kitty opened the drawer to see Basil looking up at her. She picked him up and placed him on the desk.

"So we're trusting a cat now?" Basil asked Nellie, seeming irritated.

"Relax, she's not going to harm us. I think she's going to be a big help in getting this case unwrapped if she can ask Waul some questions on our behalf while we eavesdrop. Why don't you be polite and introduce yourself?"

"What was that earlier about only fools being fearless?" Basil asked snidely.

"Go on," Nellie encouraged him.

He sighed, "Alright, I'm Phineas Baldrick. Pleasure to meet your acquaintance, and please refrain from eating my associate and I."

Nellie cocked an eyebrow. Well if he didn't want to blow his cover, she wasn't going to say anything. Nellie wouldn't have blown hers if not for losing the beard.

"Nice to meetcha. And don't worry, I'll help you guys. I'm game fer snitchin' on Waul, that snobby stuck-up Brit always gets unda my fur…no offense."

"None taken," replied Basil.

"So whatcha got in mind?" Miss Kitty asked.

"We want to know if he's in any way connected to a rat from London named Ratigan," Basil explained, "We know that a cat from New York purchased stolen museum goods from Ratigan and this Waul character sounded like a likely suspect."

"Ratigan eh? Tell ya what, I'll let you eavesdrop tonight after my big performance, and I'll ask Waul about 'dis Ratigan guy."

"Splendid," Basil replied, "And how are we going to eavesdrop without being seen by the cats?"

"Hm…well if ya climb up to da rafters on da ceiling, you should be able to climb down a chandelier. Now Waul's a brown cat who's always wearin' a monocle and a red top hat, and he hangs around with a huge spider in a cowboy hat. He'll be hard to miss."

"Huge spider in a cowboy hat? Yes, certainly not something you see everyday…"

There was a knock on the door.

"Miss Kitty? Your performance is up next. We are eagerly awaiting your presence."

"Erm…just a minute! I'll be right out!" she turned to Basil and Nellie, "Alright, I'm gonna slap on da rest of my makeup and I'm outta here. I'll leave da door open and distract any cats in da hallway. Good luck, you two."

"Thank you for your help," said Nellie.

Miss Kitty opened the drawer again, this time finding the brush and finishing with it. She then gently picked the two mice up and placed them on the ground.

"Gettin' up to da rafters will be all up to you's, but if you do it during my performance all eyes'll be on me," Miss Kitty said with a wink, before rushing out the door leaving a trail of pink perfume behind her.

"Well imagine that, a nice cat," Nellie said with a grin.

"Possibly the first one I've ever encountered," Basil said, "At any rate, I hope you're good at climbing."

"Who me? I could climb up a two story building. I'm more worried about you trying to climb in those shoes."

"I'll be just fine, thank you," Basil replied, "I don't know what it is with you Americans and your aversion to shoes."

"Oh don't be such a snob. Besides, shoes are for humans," Nellie teased.

"I'll have you know that every good detective needs a nice pair of shoes if they want to make their footprints less identifiable," Basil objected, as the two of them made their way out the door and down the hallway, still arguing.


	5. Chapter 5

The nightclub was full of rowdy, drunken cats, noisily talking, laughing, getting into fights. The bar consisted of some wooden crates stacked together, and the rest of the nightclub used spare tables and chairs from the human bar upstairs. The alcohol came from the supply the humans kept in the basement. Some catnip was available for a good price as well. In the midst of all this, Cat R. Waul and his posse were seated at a table, engaged in a high stakes game of poker with some cats from the Mott Street Maulers. Warren himself wasn't in attendance, having business elsewhere.

"I hope we don't die of smoke inhalation up there," Nellie said as they looked up at the ceiling from behind a crate. Cigar smoke hung in the air.

Basil took a look at the room, figuring out where best to make it to the chandelier that hung over the table Waul was at.

"When Miss Kitty starts singing, we'll climb that wooden beam there," Basil said, pointing to a nearby wooden beam along the wall.

"Alright, the wood looks like it's bumpy enough for us to find footing on."

"I really shouldn't have left my climbing gear in London. But, I think I'll manage."

Basil and Nellie silently waited, until the lights in the room dimmed, and a spotlight shown on the stage. The room fell to a hush, and everyone turned their attention to the stage. The curtains opened, revealing Miss Kitty sitting provocatively on a piano as another cat played a soothing, jazzy melody.

"_Love makes me treat you, the way that I do._

_Gee baby, ain't I good to you?_

_There's nothing too good, for a boy that's so true._

_Gee baby, ain't I good to you?"_

The cats were entranced by the musical number, a few of them whistling. Miss Kitty got down from the piano and began to prance along the stage as she sung. Basil and Nellie knew this was their cue, and ran for the wooden post, beginning the treacherous climb to the rafters with Nellie taking the lead and Basil climbing behind her.

"_I bought you a fur coat for Christmas, a diamond ring,_

_A luxury stagecoach, and everything._

_Love makes me treat you, the way that I do._

_Gee honey, ain't I good to you?"_

Basil and Nellie struggled to the top, clutching the grooves and cracks in the wood. Nellie did seem to have the advantage without her shoes, but Basil was too stubborn about it. About halfway up he almost slipped, but Nellie was quick to wrap her tail around his wrist before he lost grip. He held on, giving Nellie a grateful expression before continuing to climb.

Their climb went completely unnoticed as Miss Kitty's alluring presence took the center of everyone's attention. She hopped down from the stage as she sang, flirting with random cats at the tables. In particular she came up to the table where Waul's and Warren's gangs were sitting, running her tail under the big orange cat's nose. He looked like he could melt.

"_I know how to make a good man happy, and treat him right._

_With lots of lovin' just about every night._

_Love makes me treat you, the way that I do._

_Gee baby, ain't I good to you?"_

Quickly, Basil and Nellie neared the top of the beam. There was a piano solo in the song in which Miss Kitty strutted around the bar, her perfumed scent driving many of the cats wild. Once Nellie reached the top and climbed onto the horizontal wooden rafters in the ceiling she offered her hand and pulled Basil up. They each took a moment to rest a bit.

"Well…how was the climb?" Nellie asked, trying to catch her breath, not easy in the smoky atmosphere.

"Oh fine, so perhaps being in our natural barefoot state does have its advantages when you're climbing about," Basil admitted in a disgruntled tone, "It's a matter of lifestyle. In England we live a less rugged lifestyle."

"Unlike us yankee ruffians, hm?" Nellie mused.

"What I'm saying is that we're more adapted to the indoors."

"Ah, I understand," Nellie could have gone on, but she decided to get back to business, "Alright, now to climb down to that chandelier."

"_What makes me treat you, the way that I do?_

_It must be love, baby, why I'm so good to you._

_They got me payin' taxes for what I gave to you_

_Gee baby ain't I good to you…"_

The song ended and the cats in the room all cheered. As promised to Basil and Nellie, Miss Kitty pulled up a chair at Waul's table to 'mingle with the patrons', something she was told to do by management to drum up business.

"I say, jolly good show dear Miss Kitty. I can't say I've heard that particular number before," Cat R. Waul said, as the others picked up their poker game where it had left off.

"Eh, it's a new one," Miss Kitty answered, "Glad ya liked it."

"I uh, really liked it too Miss Kitty."

"What was your name again?" Miss Kitty asked the orange cat, "I always see's ya around here."

"My name's Tiger," he said shyly.

"Hm, come up and see me sometime Tigah," she said with a wink.

Waul became visibly annoyed by this exchange, "Yes, well at any rate, dear Miss Kitty, we were just discussing the prospect of opening a saloon out west, in the town of Green River."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yes, although we will need laborers to build it, so it is a vision for the far off future. But you see, Warren didn't take kindly to the idea of luring mice from New York out west to build it and…later be part of our menu."

"More mice means more dough in his pockets," Miss Kitty said.

"Yes, well I'm still trying to negotiate with Warren and perhaps agree on some kind of a quota on how many mice I can take. However, when it is built, I will be needing singers. I would like to invite you to fill the position, once the saloon is ready to open."

"I'll think about it. I kinda like it here in New York…but then again I ain't really gettin' anywhere here."

While they conversed, Nellie and Basil carefully climbed down the chain that the chandelier dangled from. Miss Kitty noticed the chandelier sway slightly.

"So eh, tell me Waul, speakin' of dough…evah heard of this crime lord over in England called Ratigan?" she asked, speaking up so that Basil and Nellie would hear.

"Ratigan, you say? Isn't he that rat that pulled off the Big Ben Caper?"

"I think so. I hoid he robbed a museum recently and was sellin' a bunch of artifacts over da black market," Miss Kitty said, "Ya know anything about dat?"

"Oh did he? Well, sounds like a tantalizing offer, but I have no use for stolen artifacts, unless to sell them for more than I bought them for. From what I've heard this Ratigan seems like a charming fellow, but I've yet to meet his acquaintance."

A burly cat in a bowler hat, with a cigar clenched in his teeth, looked up from his hand of poker.

"Hey, I think da boss knows-"

A shorter cat with long sleeves that covered his hands kicked the bigger cat in the ankle beneath the table, and glared.

"Oh eh, neva mind…" the big cat said sheepishly, placing two cards on the table, "Hit me. And ya betta not be hiding any aces in those sleeves of yers, Aces. I know your tricks."

"Not tonight, Jake. We better watch out for that tarantula, he's the one who likes hiding aces in his boots," Aces replied.

"Accuse me of cheatin', huh? I can't help it if eight poker hands are better than one, eeeheeheeheeeee!" Chula cackled.

"Did you hear that Basil?" Nellie whispered, "That cat answers to Warren T. Rat."

"Hm yes…perhaps this 'cat' we're after isn't a cat at all. It makes sense that two contemptible sewer rats would be doing business with one another. This Waul fellow may like culture, but he doesn't seem the type to hoard such artifacts. And I don't think he has a gold tooth either, at least not from what I can observe at this vantage point."

"But Warren T. does…" Nellie answered, "Basil, I think you know who we need to snoop on next."

Basil nodded, "He may not be the correct species, but everything else seems to be adding up. He's definitely worth looking into next."

"We'll need a plan first," Nellie warned, "He pretty much calls all the shots in this town. He has nearly every cat in this town at his command. If going after him weren't so dangerous I'd have done an undercover report on him a long time ago."

"Very well then. We'll come up with a plan of action. I believe we got what we came here for. Though I think we're stuck here until closing time."

"You may be right at that," Nellie said, coughing a bit from the rising cigar smoke.

The two of them waited, peering over the dangling chandelier, spying on the rest of the conversation, listening to them bicker over the poker game. Little did either of them know, a pair of eyes were watching them from the scaffolding, spying from behind a wooden beam.

"Basil of Baker Street, here in New York? The boss isn't going to like this."

The tiny figure gave a flash of electricity from it's antennae and hiccupped.


	6. Chapter 6

"So you're gonna snoop on Warren, huh?" Miss Kitty asked, back in her dressing room.

Basil and Nellie were atop her desk. It was 2 in the morning, and all the cats had left but Miss Kitty.

"Yes, we believe he is our number one suspect," Basil said.

"Ya know how dangerous dats gonna be, don't ya?"

"Yes we do, we're well aware," Nellie said, "I think it might be best to come up with some way we can meet him in a safe environment, like Tammany Hall the next time he goes to Honest John for his protection money."

"Tell me Miss Kitty, is there anything you might know about Warren that could help us?" Basil asked.

Miss Kitty thought about the question. She seemed conflicted.

"Okay, here's the thing. If he finds out I spilled the beans to you guys, I'm a skinned cat. I do know one secret about him…one big secret. None of da mice know about it, or at least da ones who did know about it ain't alive no more. All da cats know about it, but no one's allowed to say it, or else."

Basil and Nellie looked up at her eagerly.

"Yes? Go on…" Basil encouraged.

"I can't say it," Miss Kitty concluded, "All I'll tell ya is dis. When it comes to Warren, the real rat is what's behind the mask."

She opened her purse.

"Now get in you two. I wish ya good luck."

* * *

_The real rat is what's behind the mask._

Basil pondered these words back at the apartment later that morning, clearing his mind of all else as he softly played his violin in front of the fireplace. The violin had a way of soothing his nerves, of helping him keep his deductive edge even after only getting about four hours of uneasy sleep. That blasted train across the street was the only thing that disturbed his music every now and then, but soon it passed. Perhaps Miss Kitty's subtle clue would make more sense when he came face to face with the crime lord. The fact that even Miss Kitty was too afraid to tell them much just went to show how much power this robber baron wielded over New York. What had started out as a small side-case based on artifact theft may well have turned into something that would have repercussions for the entire city.

Nellie Brie had briefly returned to the Daily Nibbler offices for the time being to bring back a typewriter. Since her identity was no longer any secret to Basil, she decided she may as well start typing up their findings for her big scoop. Basil had given her permission of course. She also had some more advice letters to answer. Part of her job, after all. Once she returned though, they were going to head to Tammany Hall, and shadow Honest John until Warren showed up. That was the plan, anyway. Until then, Basil was taking this time to sit back and relax, with the soothing melody of his violin. He so enjoyed a little solitude every now and then. Okay…a lot of solitude every now and then.

"Papa!"

Basil's violin screeched. His head snapped back to look behind his chair and see who had said that. And there, standing in front of an open window, was a curious little child in a big blue hat that didn't fit him, and baggy clothes. The boy gasped upon seeing Basil.

"Wait a minute…you're not my Papa…" he said, his ears drooping a little.

"I should say not, young chap," Basil said, getting up from his chair, still holding his violin, "Now what would possibly drive you to climb into a stranger's window looking for your father? On the second floor, no less!"

"I-I've been looking for my family," the boy said, sniffling and wiping his face with his sleeve.

Basil raised an eyebrow. From the wardrobe he could tell the boy was an immigrant; the baggy sweatshirt with the rolled-up collar was characteristic of Russian peasant mouse clothing, it's tattered and frayed nature showed that he'd been through some rough experiences either before or after arriving in America, that or he didn't own many other shirts. Spots of coal dust on the boy's clothes told Basil that he'd just been under the railroad tracks across the street. And then, the final piece of the puzzle slipped into place; he was wearing a fiddler's cap, of the Russian variety (namely a 'kasket' cap, typically larger than those found in other European countries), a size too big for the youngster. It was likely his father's originally, thus, his father had to be a violinist. Leading the lost child on the lookout for his family to believe that any violin he heard was his father's.

"What is your name, child?" Basil asked, stooping down to be eye-level with the boy.

"Fievel. Fievel Mousekewitz," he answered shyly.

"Hmm, Russian-Jewish in origin, as I suspected," Basil said, "Well then Mr. Mouseketeer…"

"Mousekewitz," Fievel corrected him.

"Whatever. At any rate, I do apologize but I haven't the faintest clue where your family may be, being merely a visitor to New York myself. Nor is helping children find their family something I have a great deal of time for right now."

Fievel fidgeted with his tail and gave Basil an irresistible sad look.

"Well what more do you want from me?" Basil asked, disliking the uncanny way children had of pulling on one's heartstrings. He was never very comfortable around children, "I'm a private investigator on the trail of a vicious crime lord. You ought to take your 'missing persons' case to the local authorities, young boy."

Fievel looked down and sniffed, wiping his eyes, making Basil even more uneasy.

"Oh dash it all. If I give you a cheese crumpet will you leave and go to the police station?"

Fievel looked up at Basil, "I guess I am really hungry…"

Basil opened the ice box and fished out a cheese crumpet for the boy. Fievel snatched it from Basil's hands hungrily and began to devour it. It didn't look like he'd had much to eat in a long time. Just then, the sound of a violin once again filled the room, but it wasn't coming from Basil this time. It sounded like it was coming from the room directly above, a human-occupied one.

"Papa!" Fievel exclaimed, running for the window.

"Wait a minute!" Basil shouted, but the boy was already out on the ledge, running toward the window sill of the much-larger human room, and climbing up. Basil watched him outside the window. "Hm, oh well…I doubt a violin that loud is coming from a mouse, but he'll find out soon enough…"

He went back to his seat, deciding to forget the boy for now. But just as he was about to put his bow to the strings of his violin once more, his ears perked up.

"Wait a moment, the distinct scratchiness in that violin…why, it must be a phonograph recording," Basil realized.

"Ahhhh! A mouse! Ahhhhhh!" came yelling from a terrified human woman up above.

Basil put his violin down and rushed to the window once more, only to see Fievel fall from the window into a clothesline, and manage to parachute his way down to the ground into a water bucket, being washed down the gutter.

"Well…he'll be okay," Basil shrugged, going to sit back in his chair.

* * *

At that same moment, Nellie had just left the offices carrying a typewriter and a bundle of paper, after having filled her boss Reed Daley in on what was going on with the Basil case. He'd been disappointed that she had blown her cover, but then thrilled when she told him Basil was okay with it. "See if you can get him to do a special interview for our paper. We'll blow the competition clear out of the water with a scoop like that!" He'd also asked her if she wanted to do a quick article on the breakout at Moe's Sweatshop the night before, but she was too busy for that. Though any time a sweatshop was exposed was cause for celebration in her book; who knew how many more were hidden across the city.

She carefully made her way down the sidewalk toward Hester Street and the apartment she and Basil were staying in, dodging humans. As she turned a corner into an alley though…she felt a shadow envelop her. She turned around, only to see a burly, muscular cat holding a wooden club with a nail driven through it. She recognized him as Jake from the night before.

"G'morning, Miss Brie, heh heh heh…" said Jake, gnashing his sharp teeth.

Nellie turned to run down the alley, but more cats crept out from behind boxes and trash cans. She was surrounded.

"What do you want with me?" she shouted, knowing that this wasn't some random cat attack. She was being ambushed purposely.

As she spun around to face all her attackers, clutching her typewriter, she stopped in front of an overturned garbage can. Seeing a yellow glint in the shadows and a trail of cigar smoke rising from inside, she gazed in horror as Warren T. Rat stepped out into view, wearing a purple top hat and red longcoat.

"Hoid you was workin' on another big scoop, Ms. Brie," he said in his Jersey accent, "I've been readin' your articles for a long time, in fact you could even call me a loyal follower of yours…"

"Yeah, if loyal means he's sick an' tired of your big mouth, heh heh," said Aces, the long-sleeved cat from the night before.

"How did you-" she sputtered.

"A very reliable source told me you was at da nightclub last night, snoopin' on my boys here," Warren replied, puffing smoke from his cigar as he walked up to Nellie. He was rather tall for a rat, tall and imposing. But much shorter than the cats he had command over. As he leered down at Nellie, the snitch revealed himself. Digit peeked over the purple top hat Warren was wearing.

"If there's one thing I hate, it's a snoop, Ms. Brie," Warren said, "What's more, my little friend here told me who you was with. Basil of Baker Street, the great mouse detective?"

How did they know? The bug must have overheard Nellie address him as Basil.

"We were there to snoop on Cat R. Waul, not you," Nellie insisted.

"Dost thou think that I am easier to be played on than a pipe?" he asked, rehearsing a Shakespeare quote.

"It's the truth. I swear to it."

"Regardless of what you were there for, I do not appreciate my business deals bein' snooped on," Warren said.

"Ooh can we eat her now boss? Can we can we?" asked a hungry cat with a vicious grin.

"I will speak daggers to her, but throw none," said Warren, quoting Shakespeare once again, "If you eat her now, it'll turn too many heads. She's too famous, the mice will get suspicious. You mugs are already pushin' the envelope wit' those unplanned attacks of yours."

Nellie was encouraged by this, "Then what do you have to threaten me with, Warren?"

"Although yer safe from da claws of these cats on my behalf, as is dat new Brit boyfriend of yours, you could easily suffer some kind of unfortunate accident…" he said ominously, "It'd be an awful shame if you was assassinated by a fellow mouse instead of a cat…"

"Hired by you, no doubt," Nellie frowned.

"You've been a thorn in my side for a long time, Nellie Brie. You've been breakin' up my sweatshops. You've been costing me dough. Ya want my advice? Get outta New York. Get out and stay out, if ya value your life. Betta yet go back across da pond wit' Basil and bother Ratigan over in London. Cuz if I catch ya snoopin' on me or my associates here one more time…"

Warren ran his finger across his throat, sending a signal to Jake. Nellie stared up at Warren not showing any emotion, though inside she was terrified. Only fools are fearless. Suddenly Nellie felt an excruciating pain in her back as Jake swung his club like a golf club, knocking Nellie down on her face and causing her typewriter to smash on the pavement, her papers flying in the air. Luckily the nail hadn't hit her. But her dress was torn, her cheek, arms and legs were scraped, and her back was in agony.

"No more big scoops for you, toots," said Aces, stomping on the typewriter and destroying it further. Meanwhile Tiger stood in the background biting his claws, looking like he felt awful for Nellie.

Warren puffed on his cigar, "I think I've made myself clear, Ms. Brie. Next article I read about you in The Daily Nibbler betta be about you transferring out of New York. Until then, I bid thee adieu. Parting is such sweet…uh…sweet…"

"Psst! Sorrow!" Digit whispered.

"Ah dat's right…sorrow," Warren said, as he and the cats exited the alley, leaving Nellie behind, covered in bruises and scrapes. She winced as she got to her knees. Holding her back, she stood up. She was injured, but not severely. She could still walk.

"We must really be on the right track to solving this case," she said ironically, turning back and painfully walking down the sidewalk back to Hester Street.


	7. Chapter 7

Basil's ears perked up upon hearing a knock on the door.

"Aha, that must be Nellie now," he said, putting his violin down and sipping the last of his tea before getting up to answer the door.

When he opened the door he was in for a shock. Nellie's dress was torn and dirty, her face was scraped, her hair was unkempt, the bun coming undone and her hair's true length flowing down off her shoulders. She wore a pained expression, holding her wounded arm where the sleeve had been torn.

"Great scott, Nellie, what on Earth happened to you?! Please come in, sit down, or lie down, whichever."

Nellie walked past Basil, panting after making it all the way up the stairs, "It was Warren and his thugs. I think it's safe to say we have a prime suspect."

Basil opened the door to her bedroom, "Go ahead and rest. When you're ready I want to hear every detail you can remember. Now I know I have a first aid kit around here somewhere."

Nellie groaned and winced as she laid on her stomach, resting her left cheek, the unwounded one, on the pillow. Within a few moments Basil retuned with bandages and some hydrogen peroxide for her wounds. He pulled up a chair and sat beside her bed. Nellie liked the way he seemed so concerned for her.

"What exactly did they do?" Basil asked, filling a bottle cap up with the peroxide.

"I was hit in the back with a large wooden club by one of Warren's underlings…the rest of the cuts and scrapes are from when I skidded on the ground."

"Nothing's broken, I hope?"

"No, just bruised."

Basil nodded knowingly, before taking Nellie's arm, "This will sting a bit. It's disinfectant."

He poured peroxide on her scrapes, which sizzled and made her wince more, gritting her teeth. After that, he wrapped the bandages around her arm. "Now for that cheek."

"If you don't mind, I think I'll cover those scrapes with make-up later rather than opt for bandages."

"Suit yourself then, but I'm still disinfecting them."

"Lovely," she sighed, before wincing in pain again as he poured the peroxide on her wounds.

"I'll need to turn you over to do the legs," he said after waiting a few moments.

"I'll just sit up for that," Nellie murmured, biting her lip as she got up.

Basil lifted up Nellie's dress, and rolled up her bloomers past her knee caps. She couldn't help but feel slightly flustered when he did this, but Basil had a very professional way of going about it, as if he were a doctor. He then treated her scraped knees in the same way, disinfecting them and bandaging them up.

"Now then, in the interest of modesty, I'm going to politely ask you first if I may check out your back. Just to survey the damage of course."

"Oh…well, I suppose since I can't exactly check it out myself, it's alright," she said, laying back on her stomach again, resting her chin on her folded arms.

Basil carefully undid the back of her dress. Nellie had also been wearing a corset, and beneath that a camisole. "It's a good thing you were wearing so much armor."

"Very funny. You know how long it takes to put all this on?" Nellie asked.

"I've disguised myself in drag a few times, so I think I have an idea," Basil said as he undid Nellie's undergarments. He then gazed down at Nellie's bare back. "Oh my, yes you have quite a large contusion there caused by some blunt force trauma. It looks quite painful. No open wounds though, so there's nothing I could do with bandages or peroxide here."

Nellie could feel her cheeks grow warm with a blush as she laid with her back exposed, which she tried to fight by shutting her eyes and focusing on how much her back hurt. It was a relief to have the restrictive corset undone, which had only made her back hurt worse.

"Well then, I believe the best thing I can do is get some ice from the ice box and apply it to your back. You won't be wearing that corset again for a while, you need blood flowing to the bruise for it to heal."

"Were we still going to Tammany Hall today?" Nellie asked.

"Perhaps in a few hours if you feel up to it. But I think it would be wise to avoid Warren for the time being. If we do go maybe we can tell Honest John and the police of our findings," Basil said, getting up and going out to the kitchen for some ice.

Nellie sighed a bit, "I don't know how much good it will really do, even if we tell them I was attacked. No one's ever stood up to Warren before."

After a few moments Basil came back with some ice wrapped in a cloth, the best he could throw together right now for an ice pack. Nellie let out a small gasp when he placed it on her back due to the shock of the coldness, plus the pain. But soon it became numb.

"We'll ask Honest John what he knows about Warren, and go from there," Basil said, "He's dealt with Warren personally. He might know where he hides out. If we find where Warren is hiding the artifacts, we'll have him."

"Mmhmm…" Nellie replied, resting against the pillow, "Basil, tell me, were you ever a doctor?"

"I took some medical courses at Oxford," Basil replied, "I've no medical degree per se, but I have enough medical knowledge to get by."

"You know, you're a bit like a walking encyclopedia," Nellie mused, shutting her eyes and resting.

* * *

Nellie was back in her policeman outfit as the two of them made their way to Tammany Hall. She'd covered the scrapes on her face with makeup, and was wearing a fake beard on top of that anyway. When Nellie and Basil arrived at Tammany Hall, they found it unexpectedly somber. The sign outside read "The Wake of Mickey O'Hare".

"They hold wakes at Tammany Hall quite often," Nellie explained, "Mostly for the Irish community."

"I see. Let's step in anyway, 'Officer Rodentstein'," Basil said.

As they were about to, a wealthy-looking mouse in a big dress walked by them, headed for the doors as well. She looked back at the two.

"Wait a minute, are you Basil of Bakah Stweet?" she asked.

"Who's asking?" Basil asked suspiciously.

"That's Gussie Mausheimer," said Nellie, trying to put on a gruff voice, "Wealthiest mouse in New York."

"Gwad to hear someone's heard of me, officah. What bwings you to New York Basil? I wead all about you in ze newspapahs."

"I'm here on a case. Looking for stolen items from the British Museum," Basil explained, "By the way has anyone ever told you that you have Rhotacism?"

"Wotacism? What's zat?"

"It's a condition that affects your ability to pronounce the letter R."

"But I pwonounce ze wettah R just fine." she protested.

"Ahem, never mind then," Basil decided to change the subject if she was going to deny her speech impediment, "Coming to see Honest John I presume?"

"Why yes, I was just coming to pwopose a cowwabowation together, we must have a wowie so we can do something about zose cats."

"A cowwa-what?" Nellie asked in confusion.

"A collaboration, she means," Basil answered, "Very well then, you go on ahead. Our business with Honest John can wait a bit."

"Why thank you Mr. Basil. I don't pwan on wingahwing awound zis area foh too wong," she said, walking ahead of them.

Nellie gave Basil another confused look. He whispered to her, "_Lingering_", and then she nodded understandingly.

When the three of them walked through the door, the room was full of mice, gathered around a table with a dead mouse on display, Mickey O'Hare himself, the unfortunate chap. Honest John was drinking as usual, drunkenly presiding over the ceremony. The room had fallen to a hush, however, as Gussie demanded to speak with Honest John about her rally idea. Basil and Nellie entered behind her, largely un-noticed, and stood by the doorway. Un-noticed, that is, except by a certain lost little boy in attendance, this time accompanied by two young adults.

"Hey, that's the guy who I thought was my papa, but was someone else," Fievel whispered to them, pointing, "He said he was a detective."

"Detective eh? Maybe we betta ask 'im for some help finding yer family."

Basil and Nellie, however, had their attention on the discussion between Honest John and Gussie. Apparently they were planning on organizing a rally, and bringing mice from all over the city to finally stand up to the cats.

"I think it's a marvelous idea," Nellie whispered to Basil, "Finally we'll start cleaning up this town. Maybe even rid ourselves of that rat Warren."

Basil nodded, "That would certainly be a step in the right direction. London has its cat problems too but you don't see the cats controlling the city with an iron grip like you do here."

"I'll bwing ze uptown mice, and you bwing ze mice fwom downtown," Gussie finished, walking past Basil and Nellie, and exiting, slamming the door behind her.

"We're finally all getting' together to do somethin' about the cats!" exclaimed the Irish woman with Fievel.

"Found some friends have we, Mr. Mouthkowhip?" Basil asked, walking toward the child.

"Mousekewitz," he corrected.

"Whatever."

"And how do you know this child?" Nellie asked curiously.

"He stopped by the apartment while you were gone, looking for his father. Apparently we're both violinists," Basil said. He looked at the two Fievel was with, "These two seem a bit young to be your parents."

"Dat's because we ain't his parents. I'm Tony Toponi, 'dis kid helped break me out of a sweatshop so I'm returnin' da favor by helping' him look for his family. And dis here's Bridget. So uh, yer a detective eh? Whatcha doin' here at Tammany Hall?"

"Indeed, I'm Basil of Baker Street, a detective from London. We've come to speak with Honest John as soon as he has a moment…which it appears he has."

"I brought us here so we could ask Honest John if'n he knows Fievel's family," said Bridget, "He knows every mouse in town, he does."

"Very well, you go ahead of us," Basil said, motioning toward Honest John at the other end of the room.

Bridget took Fievel to speak with Honest John, asking him if he knew the Mousekewitz family.

"Are they registered to vote?" he asked with an alcoholic burp in poor Fievel's face.

"They just got off the boat," Bridget answered.

"Sorry, don't know 'em yet," Honest John said, taking another drink.

Fievel's ears drooped. Another dashed hope. Nellie looked on with deep sympathy.

"The poor child, I wish we could do something to help," she sighed, speaking quietly to Basil to keep up her disguise.

"We have more urgent matters to attend to," Basil replied.

It seemed Basil's advice of going to the authorities hadn't paid off for Fievel. Tony and Bridget led Fievel away, who stared at the ground as he walked, rubbing his cheek with his sleeve and sniffling.

"Hey don't fret kiddo, we'll find yer family some otha' way," Tony said.

"Every mouse in town will be at that rally Gussie Mausheimer was talkin' about," Bridget said, "Maybe we'll find them there. I'll see about gettin' good seats."

Fievel lifted his hat up, "Never say never…"

The trio walked back over to Basil.

"Well, your turn," said Tony, "Say uh, Mr. Detective, I know yer busy and all but if ya come across a family named Mousekewitz while workin on dat big case of yours, tell 'em their kid's lookin' for 'em, will ya?"

Basil and Nellie exchanged glances. She nudged him with her elbow.

"I assure you, I will keep a keen eye out for the Mousekovich family while here in New York, and I'll let them know their son is alive and well should I come across them."

He suddenly felt something clutch his leg. He looked down and saw Fievel hugging onto his leg tight. Basil gave an irritated look, and tried to slide Fievel off his leg like an article of clothing, while Nellie gave an entertained laugh.

"Yeah, he tends ta do dat," said Tony, rolling his eyes.


	8. Chapter 8

Once Honest John was able to spare a moment for the two of them, Basil and Nellie approached him, moving around the mourners for Mickey O'Hare. It did seem a tad disrespectful to have all this going on at a wake, but Gussie Mausheimer's appearance was what started it, so it didn't seem to matter at least to Honest John.

"Ah, Basil of Baker Street! How's the case been goin'?" he asked drunkenly, "Care for a drink?"

"No thank you ,dear sir. I thought I would brief you on my progress and try to get some information from you. Could we go somewhere a bit more private?"

Basil gazed about the room. Warren's spies could be anywhere. But this time the detective used his keen sense to tell if there was a little roach buzzing about, and there was no sign that he could see. Best to be safe though. His lapse in judgment was what had led to Ms. Brie being jumped in that alley. Basil couldn't help feeling responsible. He hated making mistakes. It wasn't something that happened regularly, but he was only a mouse after all, as prone to imperfection as anyone.

"Certainly. I'm about done here, I got another wake in an hour though." Honest John said as he ushered Basil and Nellie back into another room, through a door with his name on it. Inside the room were books and various artifacts from the Native American mice that once roamed the land New York was built over. And of course, a shelf with wine bottles.

"Very well then, Honest John, "Basil began, "After some investigating last night, Officer Rodentstein and I have reason to suspect the culprit of the crime is none other than the 'community leader' who you call Warren T. Rat. While Cat R. Waul seemed suspicious, we determined that he likely hasn't met Professor Ratigan."

"Oh my…I was afraid of this."

"Why, may I ask?" Basil inquired.

"I'm afraid the police ain't gonna be helping you arrest him, even if you find concrete proof he committed the crime. Y'see, Warren is the only thing that keeps the cats from massacring all of us. Though he ain't done such a good job at it lately. If we stand up to Warren though…his cats'll have an open buffet on us."

Basil stroked his chin, "Ah, the protection racket. I see your dilemma."

"The honest answer is, if yer barkin' up Warren's tree, you're on yer own," Honest John said.

"Now wait just one minute!" Nellie said angrily, unable to keep herself quiet but still putting on her best masculine voice, "You're saying that even if we find out for certain Warren committed the crime, you're just going to let him get away with it? This may well spark an international incident between America and England!"

"Sir, if England wants to, they can send over the entire Scotland Yard to try and take Warren out, and get back those museum artifacts. And probably be made into mouseburgers for their trouble," Honest John said, having another sip of his drink.

"Hm…a most challenging adversary indeed, this Warren fellow," Basil said, the gears in his brain turning.

"But…there is one thing. You heard about that rally Gussie Mausheimer wants to organize didn't ye?"

"Why yes, we were there when she spoke to you," Basil replied.

"We're gonna be talking about doing something about the cats. If we succeed in our goals, maybe then you'll have a shot at taking Warren down. It probably won't be the only crime he'll be arrested for if we get those cats out of the way. My suggestion to you is this. Go ahead and continue your investigation, at your own risk, if you want to. But wait until whatever this plan we come up with at the rally pans out if you expect any police back-up, besides the bodyguard we gave you."

"Very well then," Basil said, "One question though. Could you perhaps point me in the direction of Warren's base of operations? His hideout?"

"Since ye ask, you can usually find him lounging around inside a suitcase by Castle Garden, lookin' for new employees to hire fresh off the boat. No one knows where he actually lives though. Rumor has it he lives underground somewhere, bein' a sewer rat. This city is full of old sewer lines, so you'll have quite a time finding it."

"A sewer rat? I suppose it would be useless using that as an insult against him. My bodyguard and I will be right on it."

"Good luck then Basil. Hope to hear back from you again soon," Honest John replied as he showed them out. After closing the door, he added, "I hope to hear back from them at all."

* * *

After making a quick stop back at the apartment for a disguise for Basil (at Nellie's insistence), the duo made their way back down the streets to the Daily Nibbler offices, both to get Nellie another typewriter, and to search the area where Nellie was beaten for any clues. The day was waning and the sun was beginning to go down as Basil and Nellie made their way to the alley. Basil had brought along a magnifying glass, and some vials and bags to collect any clues or fur samples.

"That was a cute kid back at Tammany Hall," Nellie said, "I think once all this business is over with, he should be your next case."

"Finding the boy's missing family? Me? Why, as long as that scoundrel Ratigan is out there I can't drop my guard for an instant," Basil said, wearing his trench coat again with the moustache, "I don't handle missing persons cases. If I helped every little child who strayed from their parents around here, it would be all I'd ever do."

"Oh come now Basil, I know with your skills you'd find his parents in less than a day. Or do you not do missing persons cases because you're no good at them?" Nellie teased.

"No good at them? On the contrary, dear Miss Brie, I'm confident that I could find his family in this city in less than a day if I applied myself. But I'm too busy for that sort of rubbish."

They turned a corner into the alley where Nellie had been attacked. The alley was still littered with papers, and in one spot, the crushed remains of Nellie's typewriter.

"I'll quote you on that in my article if you don't help," Nellie said firmly, but with a teasing smile.

"You'll do nothing of the sort," Basil replied irritably.

"Oh won't I? You should have known what you were getting yourself in for when you befriended an undercover reporter, Basil," she said with a smirk.

Basil shushed her and whispered, "Not so loud. You don't want any cats overhearing us. They could return to the scene of the crime and according to them you're supposed to be on a boat to London now."

Nellie put her hand over her mouth, "Sorry."

"Now then, can you remember where everyone was standing?"

"Well there was the big cat right behind me, Jake I think…and a cat over on that wooden crate, and one behind the trash can. The big orange one was further back…and I remember the way Warren crept out of that overturned trash can over there…"

The memory sent a shiver up her spine.

"Ah, good good." Basil said as he hunched over, with a magnifying glass over his eye, and scanned the ground, "Now if I can only find…aha."

He ran his finger over the ground.

"Yes?" Nellie asked.

"Cigar ashes," Basil said, taking out a vial and a small spoon from his pocket, scooping the ashes up, "You mentioned he'd been smoking a cigar. Once I run a few tests I may be able to determine where the cigars came from, that could lead us to where he bought them and where we can find him again."

Basil then entered the trash can, looking around for anything he could find.

"I wonder what he was doing there anyway? Probably just wanted to make a scarier entrance." Nellie speculated with disgust.

"Hmm…aha, I see foot prints…he was wearing a pair of sandals apparently, unusual footwear for a rat I believe…and…aha! Yes yes, I do believe this is fur!" He pinched some copper-brown fur from inside the can and took out another vial.

"By the look of things it's remarkably soft…a somewhat uncharacteristic texture for rat fur to have. Very long too, unlike most rat fur. I will need to do some tests."

"Are you through poking around in the garbage yet?" Nellie asked somewhat impatiently. The truth was, being here was making her more and more uneasy, especially since it was starting to get darker out.

"Just about. We mustn't linger around here too long, but I think I've found what we need. Lets get to your offices and get your typewriter, once we get back I want to test this evidence so we can get a clearer picture on who or what this Warren fellow is."

With that the two of them left the alley and went a little ways down the street. At the printers, humans were bustling about as The New York World released its evening edition. That made it easy to enter, though dodging shoes was always a challenge.

"Getting to the offices is a little tricky, just follow my lead," said Nellie.

Nellie carefully climbed up a wooden desk, and Basil followed her. At the top was the opening of a pneumatic tube with an open capsule, used by humans for delivering mail or messages to other parts of the building. The mice had learned to use it for transportation, building their own stopper inside the metal tube so they could make the capsule stop at the Daily Nibbler office, deep inside the walls.

"Ah, so we'll be traveling by way of pneumatic tube, eh? I've always wanted to try that."

There was a young mouse standing by to throw the switch, "Ms. Brie is that you?"

"Good eye," she said with a wink, pulling her beard down for a second, "Take us to the office."

"Yes ma'am," he said, as the two of them climbed into the capsule and took a seat, hanging onto a makeshift rail that the mice had installed.

Once the capsule was closed, the mouse flipped a switch, and a jet of air sent the capsule flying through the tubes at enormous speed. It was a bit like riding a roller coaster. The ride had them spinning upside down and sideways at different moments, until finally it came to a jarring halt. Nellie winced as her bruised back slammed against the seat.

"Are you alright?" Basil asked.

"I'll be okay," she said, standing up to open the capsule and step out.

She led Basil through the room, full of mice carrying newspapers, and to the desk where Reed Daley sat writing down ideas for headlines. He was a sharp-dressed mouse with his black hair greased back and seemed to wear a constant smug grin. He looked up from his work.

"Back so soon Nellie? And…is this Basil of Baker Street?"

"Yes it is. And Basil, this is Mr. Reed Daley, my editor. We're here for another typewriter," she said, taking her beard off and revealing her scraped cheek, "Apparently our hot lead on the case got a little too hot for a certain rat's liking. Neither of us are going anywhere alone again until this is settled."

Reed stood up from his chair, getting a closer look, "Were you mugged?"

"Warren T. Rat and his cat gang decided to resort to intimidating Ms. Brie and I," Basil replied, "I was not present, so they decided to give the message to Nellie. They crushed her typewriter too."

"Nellie, you be careful from now on," Reed insisted, "You're my star reporter, without you we're sunk. But, on the plus side, this'll make excellent material for that article. Now Mr. Basil, I asked Nellie to ask you if you'd do an exclusive interview for the paper. Would you be interested in that?"

Nellie seemed annoyed with Reed at being so insensitive, folding her arms and giving him an angry glare. Seemed all he cared about was selling papers. Although she still suspected he only acted that way to hide his feelings for her, and she'd have to wait before he ever opened up and admitted it. But, since she met Basil, she was starting to wonder if Reed was even worth the wait, with so many other possibilities out there…

"I might be inclined to talk about this case and some of my past ones in an article," Basil said, "It will need to be after the case finishes up and just before I return to England. Can't have Ratigan knowing I'm here and seeing it as a free pass to do whatever he wants in London because I'm not there to stop him, you know."

"Great, just let me know when you want to do that," he said with a grin, "We're well on our way to being the top newspaper in the state at the rate we're going."

"So tonight is the big scoop on Gussie's rally I take it?" Nellie asked.

"Unfortunately no. The rally is supposed to be kept a secret from the cats so we were told we weren't allowed to report on it at all," Reed said irritably. He rubbed his eyes, which were beginning to look a little red and puffy.

"Hm, I suppose that makes sense," Nellie said, "I wasn't sure if I was going to go or not."

She looked to Basil, who stroked his chin.

"It won't help us find Warren's hideout, but its results do have a great impact on our case since we can't have police support until the cats in Warren's gang are run out of town," Basil said, pondering which would be a better use of their time, attending the rally or following the lead on Warren, "It depends on if the tests I run on our clues yield any results."

Reed took out a handkerchief and blew his nose, "Yeah, well I've got one of our other reporters on it anyway, though we can't publish his article until after the fact."

"Are you feeling okay?" Nellie asked.

"I don't know, I was fine a minute ago…you guys haven't been around cats or anything have you? I'm allergic to cat fur," Reed explained, "My mom always told me it was a blessing in disguise, because I always know when one is prowling around."

"We just went to the alley where I was attacked and looked for clues, maybe there's cat fur on our clothes," Nellie said.

Basil narrowed his eyes, the gears in his head turning. He took out the vial that had Warren's fur in it and stared at it.

"How very curious…" he said to himself.


	9. Chapter 9

Basil examined the cigar ashes under a microscope at a desk in the living room as the clacking keys of Nellie's typewriter filled the air from her bedroom.

"Hm, yes the tobacco used to make this was surely grown somewhere in the southern United States, so that tells me it wasn't imported and probably wasn't too expensive," Basil said to himself.

He could try to trace the cigar to where it was purchased, but the task might not be very productive. There were stores all over the city that the cigar could have come from, and Basil still didn't know New York that well. He was finding that his style of detecting was far more effective in London, a city which he knew by heart, every street and alley. If only he could get a closer look at Warren to see if his suspicions were true. But he had yet to even lay eyes on him.

The clacking of Nellie's keyboard stopped, and after a few moments she walked into the room holding a paper.

"Well that's one more advice letter finished. How's your research coming?"

"The cigar ashes leave too much of an open end. The fur intrigues me, however."

"How so?"

Basil took the cigar ashes off the slide, and put another one on the microscope.

"Look here."

Nellie walked over, and looked into the microscope, seeing two long hairs of similar thickness and length, but different color.

"Well? Are you seeing it?" Basil asked.

"What am I looking for?" .

"One of those hairs is Warren's. The other is from another cat in his gang," Basil explained.

"They look almost identical." Nellie remarked.

"Indeed, they do."

"You aren't suggesting what I think you are, are you?" Nellie asked with a smirk, putting one hand on her hip as she stood up.

"Just think about it," Basil said, "Mice and rats don't get along very well, but a mouse would trust a rat over a cat, wouldn't it?"

"Oh honestly Basil, is there really that big a difference between cat hair and rat hair? Besides…even if what you're implying is true, that really doesn't do anything for our case."

"But it is something to ponder," Basil said, "How about the way Mr. Daley had his allergic reaction?"

"We had cat hair on us, who knows which cat the hairs came from? The way you're going on about this conspiracy theory I'm thinking you'd make a great reporter for the Daily Nibbler. Reed would love you. I'll believe Warren is a cat when I see it. He'd be an awfully small one."

"Remain skeptical if you will, dear Ms. Brie, but my intuitions rarely lead me astray," Basil retorted, "At any rate, I think I have formulated a plan."

"Oh have you now? So are we going to that rally in the morning?"

"No, I believe not. I'm going to be far too busy sewing articles of clothing for little to no wages."

Nellie cocked an eyebrow. "Explain?"

"Oh it's all very elementary, Nellie. Honest John said that Warren hangs around in a suitcase near Castle Garden where he recruits immigrants for his sweatshops. I'll merely impersonate a British immigrant looking for work. That way I'll be able to get a good look at him, maybe ask him a few questions and see if he gives any hints about his hideout or possessing stolen artifacts. I'll know if he's wearing a disguise."

"You're going to go through all that just to see if he's wearing a disguise?" Nellie gave a worried look, "Basil, that is a really bad idea. You don't know what it's like in those sweatshops! Trust me, I've been in them. Do you plan on escaping? Because it's not going to be easy. Especially after the breakout at Moe's the other day. And anyway…just what am I supposed to do?"

Basil could tell she was growing concerned for him, but he wasn't swayed.

"Because I want you to stay safely away from Warren, you can either spy on us from a distance, or stay here. Perhaps the night after I'm captured you can meet me as I make my escape."

"What about the two of us staying together? You promised," she said, still not liking the plan one bit.

"This time it's for the best. If Warren recognized you we'd both be in trouble. But he hasn't seen me in person yet so I have a better chance of fooling him. Besides, we'll get to liberate some sweatshop employees in the process. I don't plan on being stuck there for more than a day if all goes according to plan."

Nellie sighed, "Okay, okay. I trust you Basil. We'll go through with it in the morning then. I want to come down there with you but I won't go anywhere near Warren."

"There is method to my madness yet," Basil said with a grin.

Nellie glanced out the window. The moon was just starting to come up, and it looked huge in the sky. It was a beautiful night.

"It's been a rough couple of days. Since I'm done with my work and it looks like you are too, care to relax under the stars and get a bit of fresh air?"

"Going out this late with cats about is slightly dangerous, don't you think?" Basil asked.

"We'll go up to the roof. Come on, it'll be nice," she said with a smile.

Basil thought it over some, "I suppose there would be no harm in it if we remain vigilant."

Basil got up and the two of them stepped outside, making their way up the long flight of stairs outside their apartment until they came to a tiny door labeled "roof access". It came out right next to the much larger door for humans. The night winds carried fresh air to their lungs. They climbed up a ledge and sat down, overlooking the rooftops of the city, and the ocean beyond as it glimmered with the reflection of the enormous moon.

"If you forget about all the crime and hardship in this city for a moment, it really can be breathtakingly beautiful," Nellie said as she gazed to the horizon.

Basil was silent, he seemed to be thinking as he looked down at the city, perhaps memorizing the buildings and streets.

"I should have come up here sooner, this is an excellent way to get my bearings," Basil said.

"My, does your brain ever stop to smell the roses?" Nellie asked, "It's like a steam engine that won't turn off."

"I didn't come to America for a vacation," Basil replied, "Crime never rests, and neither do I."

"Yes but if you don't rest, you'll get tired, and you'll lose your edge," Nellie argued, "I'm addicted to my job too but I know when to take time off for myself, at least…every now and then."

Basil shrugged, "Being a news reporter and being a detective have their similarities. But I'd venture to say it's far less confrontational, particularly when you have a personal rivalry with the self-proclaimed 'Napoleon of crime'."

"Oh reporting is all about rivalries, Basil. It's always trying to get that big scoop before a reporter from a different paper or some new upstart beats you to it."

"Touche, Ms. Brie. My experience with reporting is limited. I'd never stopped to think about how similar it is to being a detective."

"We even have similar goals. Well, the real reporters do, not the ones who are in it for the money."

"How so?" Basil asked.

"I told you before. I want to clean this city up, expose all the crime and corruption behind the scenes for the world to see and make sure something is done about it. I want to make this place safer to live in, and correct its injustices. I know you care about that too, don't you?"

"I'm glad working for Mr. Daley and becoming so successful hasn't stopped you from pursuing those goals," Basil said, "As for me, I suppose that drive was what led me to become a detective in the first place."

"Oh? So when did you know that was what you wanted to do?"

"When my parents died." he said bluntly, before looking up at the sky, "You know now that you mention it, there is something rather pleasant about tonight. The stars are simply beautiful."

Nellie blinked, her jaw slightly agape, "How old were you?"

"Hm? When do you mean? Oh, you're still on about that," it seemed Basil's ploy to change the subject hadn't worked, "I was fifteen. They were mugged by a street rat, and the mugger was nervous, he shot my mother accidentally and then shot my father after he tried to wrestle the gun from him."

"I'm so sorry…" she said, as she slowly took his hand, "I guess you hear that story a lot, no matter what country you're in. If it wasn't cats that is."

"I was away at Boarding School at the time. I after receiving news of it I escaped the Boarding School and went back to the scene of the crime myself, there I found all the clues I needed to track down the culprit. I gave my findings to the police and they tracked him down and arrested him. It was my first case. Luckily I got on just fine after that; my father, Nigel Basil, was a wealthy man with a patent on cheese manufacturing equipment for mice. The inheritance was enough to put me through college and graduate school at Oxford, and I still make a living off royalties."

"And from that day on you wanted to stop things like that from happening to others, right?" Nellie inquired.

"Something like that." Basil replied somewhat uncomfortably.

"Sorry for making you bring that up, I always did have a weakness for asking questions even when they're unpleasant ones."

"No need for apologies Ms. Brie."

"Well, here's a less unpleasant one. So Basil's your last name?"

"Yes, that it is. My first name is Sherringford. We British prefer to keep a last-name basis more often than not, and besides I quite prefer being called Basil at any rate."

"Mind if I call you by your first name?" she asked.

"Yes, a bit." Basil replied.

"Oh, alright." Nellie shrugged.

"If you must use my first name, just avoid referring to me as 'Sherri'. I abhor that nickname."

"A victim of playground teasing?" Nellie said with a slight grin, "It doesn't sound like a good name to have when you're a child."

"Quite right," Basil replied, "You aren't saving all of this for your article are you?"

"I'll keep all this off the record if that's what you want. Really I was just striking up a conversation at first," Nellie said, in that tone of voice she used when she wanted Basil to know she was being sincere, "Anyway, you want to know why I decided to be a reporter?"

"Indeed. I've been anxious to figure you out."

"I'm afraid my story might not be as compelling as yours. I'm originally from Cochran Mills, Pennsylvania, where my family lived in a farmhouse. My father died in a cat attack when I was about six, and we moved to Pittsburg to get away from the cats. My mother is a strong woman, and I guess it rubbed off on me, she raised me that way. I always liked to read about what was going on in the world too, so from an early age I read newspapers. When I was only sixteen I read an editorial in the newspaper that admonished women for even attempting to have an education or career, suggesting they should stray no further than the home. Naturally, I wasn't going to let that slide. I wrote back to the newspaper under a pen-name and gave them a fiery rebuttal, telling them that women were capable of anything. The editor was so impressed he asked to see me, not knowing I was a woman myself. But after I impressed him with my rebuttal and it got positive reviews from others when he printed it, he gave me a job. The rest is history I guess, I worked my way up the ladder, turned some heads with my more investigative journalistic style after being given boring topics to report on like fashion and food, eventually got a high-paying job offer from the Daily Nibbler and I found myself in New York."

"It seems to me you became a reporter to prove your worth then," Basil noted, "The cat attack on your father must have had an impact too, when you got to New York you couldn't stand seeing the same thing that forced you to leave Cochran Mills happening here on a far grander scale."

"Did you take psychology classes at Oxford too?"

"Why yes, I did," Basil replied.

"It was just a hunch," she said with a smile, "But you're basically right."

"Then this case might be just what you were looking for, if we can expose Warren for the true fraud I believe he is."

"Something tells me you're right. I've been waiting for this case for a long time," Nellie slowly put an arm around Basil and rested her cheek against his shoulder, something that surprised Basil a little, but he didn't do anything to stop her, "Basil, please be careful tomorrow."

Basil gave a warm smile, "Don't worry, I always am."

A gentle breeze blew as they stared up at the huge moon. As they listened in the silence, they began to hear the faint sound of someone singing, the sound carried by the wind.

"I wonder who that is," Nellie said.

"It's coming from the water tower about two buildings over," Basil said, looking toward the building, "And I believe our singer is none other than little Fievel Mousterich."

"You mean Mousekewitz."

"Whatever."

"I do hope he finds his family. They're in this city somewhere," Nellie sighed.


	10. Chapter 10

Warren puffed on a cigar, stopping to admire himself in the mirror as his accountant Digit counted a bag of cash; protection money from all of the mice.

"So eh, how are my profits doin' today?" he asked Digit, "Betta be up from yesterday. Those pesky street rats escaping' Moe's, I'll get 'em all back."

"W-well boss, with Moe out of the picture w-we're losing upwards of twenty dollars a day. We haven't taken a hit like this since Nellie Brie exposed that other sweatshop," Digit replied fearfully, hiccupping as his antennae buzzed, "We still have the Cheese Factory and a couple other sweatshops around the city though, we can ask them for more money to cover the loss."

"Twenty dollars a day!" Warren gave an angry huff, blowing smoke at the cockroach and making him gag and cough, "And to think just the otha day I was moanin' about losin' fifty cents. What we needs is more workers. More chumps from off da boats we can swindle."

Having been waiting for the perfect cue, Basil peeked around the entrance to Warren's suitcase, a hole torn through the side. He was wearing a flat cap and a coat with a scarf, and fingerless gloves on his hands.

"Oi there, this the office of Warren T. Rat?" Basil asked, putting on a Cockney accent.

"Well well well, fortune brings in some boats which are not steered," Warren quoted from Shakespeare, "Ya came to da right place. Warren T. Rat at your service."

"Oh splendid. I just got off the boat this morning' y'see, sailed 'ere all the way from Liverpool lookin' to strike it rich in the land of opportunity, aye? Trouble is I ain't got nothing to me name but the clothes on me back. A man at Castle Garden told me at see you, said you could get me a job real quick and easy like."

"You came at da best time. I know a nice little clothing shop that's hiring. You get room and board, three square meals a day, and fifty cents a day," Warren stopped to blow smoke rings, "And that's just a starting wage. Impress da owner and he might promote ya."

"My mum always wanted me to be a tailor. I think I'll take ye up on the offer, I will. You seem like a swell guy Mr. Rat, and handsome too! With that nicely cone-shaped snout and those perfect ears."

"Ahem, yeah of course I'm handsome," Warren said, flashing a nervous gold-toothed grin.

Basil noted the distinct lack of prominent buck-teeth present in most rodents. Instead they were sharp and feline. Were the mice of New York really being fooled by this? Granted, few were as perceptive as Basil, and Nellie had far too much on her mind last time she saw Warren so surely she could be forgiven.

"Y'know, back home we got another nice, charmin' rat by the name of Professor Ratigan . I worked for him for a while robbin' jewelry stores and whatnot until the coppers caught up with us and I had to flee the country."

Warren gave Basil an interested look, taking the cigar from his mouth.

"Ya don't say? You was one of Ratigan's boys eh? Came to America to dodge da cops? I hoid of Ratigan…"

"Oh did ye? He's real infamous, especially after the London Bridge job and all. Y'know the last job I did for him was one of his biggest. We hit up the British Museum, we did."

Digit narrowed his eyes at Basil while Warren stroked his chin. The little bug was getting suspicious, Basil realized. And he'd seen Basil before.

"Ya know, I think I like you," Warren said with a grin, "Takes a lotta sand to be a museum robber. Not that I would know anything about that bein' the upstanding, law-abiding citizen that I am. That's why I'm gonna put in a good word for your new boss. Come wit' me."

'_Drat!'_ Basil thought to himself. His plan to get a confession out of Warren had failed. Though Warren did give some indication of being familiar with Ratigan, which still kept him as a prime suspect in the crime, he wasn't going to accidentally spill the beans just because someone claimed to be one of Ratigan's former gang members. It even looked like he was still selling Basil to the sweatshop despite that. Basil was even more worried that maybe Warren had figured out who he was, and would now lead him into a trap. He kept himself weary as Warren got up and walked toward the exit.

Meanwhile Nellie looked on from behind a discarded hat on the ground as Basil exited with Warren and Digit. She'd followed Basil down here, but now was keeping a safe distance. She hoped her policeman outfit would be enough to fool anyone should she be spotted by a cat. Even the hungriest cats in Warren's gang weren't foolhardy enough to eat a policeman, yet anyway. She was going to trail the two from afar, to find out where the sweatshop was.

"Stick wit' me, and I'll make your American dream come true, heh heh," Warren said as he led Basil down the street, "They don't call dis place da land of opportunity for nothing."

"Too bad the streets ain't paved with cheese like in the song they sang on the boat," Basil remarked.

Indeed, on the boat ride to America he had heard the immigrant mice singing "There Are No Cats in America", apparently a popular folk tune that was sweeping Europe. Too bad Basil happened to know that felines had been brought over to the New World by humans two centuries earlier, the poor fools.

"Hey, maybe they aren't. But I'm makin' sure at least da cats will be kept in line. I'm a negotiator between the two parties if ya haven't heard. The mice pay me money which I give to da cats, and the cats use da dough to buy fish instead of eating mice."

Would that it did work that way, Basil thought.

"Yer a regular saint you are, bless your heart." Bails said.

The two of them walked downtown toward the Five Points slum, until they reached a six story building and Warren opened a small mouse door on the side.

"Right dis way sir." Warren said, as the two of them walked up a flight of stairs. They walked for a long while before reaching a door on the sixth floor marked "McNibble's Clothing - Wardrobes Made While You Wait". Warren opened the door, where a grumpy-looking Scottish mouse sat at a desk, counting coins and building small towers out of them. He looked up at the two.

"Ah, Warren T. Come for your pay have you? And with a new recruit too," he said in a Scottish accent, getting up from his desk and walking over to them.

Basil could hear the sewing machines from the next room. The air was steamy and hard to breathe in, even in the entrance room.

"Yep, straight off da boat from England," Warren said, "He used to be a thief too, so watch out. So where's my pay cut?"

"Aye, 'tis right here laddie," McNibble said, sliding coins into a burlap bag to give to Warren, "That's twenty dollars for today. And here's an extra fifty cents for the new guy."

It looked like he was approaching Basil to give him the money and Basil held his hand out, but Warren outstretched his hand over Basil's and the coins dropped into Warren's hand. The two of them shared a nice hearty laugh at Basil's expense, who gave an irritated look.

"Oh, I do love the face they make when we do that to 'em the first time," McNibble's snickered, taking his glasses off to wipe his eyes.

"Yeah, sure is a barrel of laughs workin' wit' you McNibble. Anyways, I got places to go, people to scam, I'll be seein' ya," Warren said, taking the bag of coins and making his way out the door, leaving Basil and McNibble alone.

"Now then, get to work. We need another person at the sewing machines. And don't dawdle, time is money!" McNibble demanded, pointing to the door that led to the

"Yes sir," Basil said, sighing and preparing himself for the grueling manual labor ahead.

The room he walked into was poorly lit with a kerosene lantern. Somewhere around forty mice, from ranging from little children to the elderly, were all hard at work making clothing. Some mice were sitting hunched over at rows upon rows of sewing machines, others were cutting fabric with scissors, still others were ironing the clothes which was what was making it so steamy in the room. None of the windows were open to ventilate the room. Basil could see from where he was standing that they'd been nailed shut, probably to prevent escape. Basil made a note to pay attention to where the clothes he bought came from the next time he went shopping. This was slavery, pure and simple.

"Hey new guy, get to the sewing machine!" ordered a mouse who dumped a huge pile of cloth into Basil's arms.

Basil could hardly see where he was going holding the clothes, and he stumbled over to the nearest vacant sewing machine. He placed the pile of cloth down. Looking around, he got a good idea of his surroundings, as well as his fellow employees. Beside him was a miserable looking Irishman, thin with red hair and peach-colored fur, wearing a green bowler hat and a blue vest over a green shirt. On the opposite side was a man who sparked some interest in Basil. Though dressed in typical American street clothes the barrel-chested young man with reddish fur and long black braided hair looked to Basil like a Native American if he wasn't very mistaken. Behind him were two children, one a chubby boy with black hair, another a smaller boy with a pointed nose.

"Yeah, I wonder where Simon got sent off to." said one, "We shoulda never left Orphan Alley."

"Listening to Warren was all your idea, Roc." accused the other.

"Excuse me for being tired of sleeping on hay all the time."

Basil tuned them out as he began to sew a pair of pant legs together at the machine. He did it very carefully, even though there was really no reason for him to put any kind of quality into his work, not being paid for it and all. It was just a quirk of his to do everything perfectly. He was at work for over an hour before anyone at the machines spoke to him.

"It gets easier after a while," the Irishman remarked, having noticed Basil.

"Oh? And how long have you been here?" Basil asked.

"A little over a week I think. It feels like much longer." he said, "Dylan O'Brian's the name, lad."

"Sherringford Basil." Basil confessed, though he didn't plan on saying any more about himself than that, "Did Warren pick you up too?"

"Aye, that he did. Soon as I got off the boat. I only came here to get away from the cats…after a calico caught me lover by surprise." he lamented, "Her tail was all he left of her…"

"I'm sorry for your loss," Basil said, before suddenly interjecting, "Wait a moment, calico cats are almost always female."

"Oh, are they? My mistake, lad," Dylan said with a shrug. "Anyways, if I'd a known America were like this I'd a stayed back home in dear ol' Dublin."

"Well then, how was the rest of the trip to America?" Basil asked, making small talk as he stitched.

"Fine, mostly," Dylan recounted as he sewed up a shirt sleeve, "We did go through a terrific storm. Tragically one family of Russians lost their son overboard, the father came back really upset about it as I recall. Whole family was in tears. Other than that not much happened."

"Really, how sad," Basil said dismissively. Until suddenly something dawned on him, "Wait a minute…do you recall the first name of the child who fell overboard?"

"Oh? Um…it was somethin' you don't hear every day. Fievel I think?"

"Aha! The same child I've run into several times since my arrival here in America," Basil said triumphantly. Perhaps the boredom of working here was finally making him interested in Fievel's case, or perhaps he felt the need to follow through with the promise he made to Nellie.

"You mean the boy lived?

"Indeed, and he's scouring the city looking for his family. What did the family look like?"

"Oh, let me see…there was a heavy-set bearded man who played a violin, his wife wore her hair in a bun and always had a baby in her arms, and their little girl wore an orange cloth on her head and a little dress…that's about all I recall, I never talked to them. I do remember the man singing a verse about how cats orphaned him when he was a lad back in Minsk while we were singin' "There Are No Cats in America" though."

"Do you happen to know where they might be living now?" Basil inquired.

"'Fraid not, I lost sight of 'em after we disembarked."

"Oh well, it's a start, now I know who to look out for when I get out of here."

"Say what now?"

The silent Native American mouse beside Basil looked up from his work as well.

"Don't say anything to anyone, but tonight, I have a cunning plan to get us out of here," Basil said slyly.

"Eh, every new guy around here says that. You're foolin' yourself," said one of the kids behind him, the chubby one named Roc.

"Yeah, pitiful," snickered the other.

Basil turned around, "You know there's nothing sadder than a young pessimist. Except maybe an old optimist. Anyway, believe me or not, it doesn't matter. You'll thank me later."

"Ah, keep dreamin'." scoffed the orphans.


	11. Chapter 11

The day wore on painfully slow. Basil swore he was getting carpal tunnel by the time the ever-so-brief lunch break rolled around, where they were given cheese soup with bread crumbs and water, a meager meal probably more well suited for a Siberian prison. The break was twenty minutes before McNibble forced everyone back to work. It was no wonder this place had broken most everyone's spirits, no one seemed to hold any hope of ever getting out of here. Obviously the news of the other sweatshop breakout at Moe's had never reached them, for if it had they might have banded together and tried to hatch up a similar scheme.

The rest of the day went on in much the same way, most of it a complete blur to Basil. Maybe he should have paid attention to Nellie's warnings, working in a sweatshop was harder than he thought it would be. But the more he endured it, the stronger his resolve became to help everyone escape, and bring down Warren's crooked empire of crime. It would all be good practice for when he finally defeated Ratigan.

When dinner rolled around, it was much the same meal as lunch. Basil was dying for a cheese crumpet. When he got back to the apartment he decided he'd eat enough crumpets to make up for the ones he missed today. Work didn't end until ten at night, when McNibble and his security goons, no doubt hired as an investment to keep anyone from escaping or organizing a rebellion, called everyone to the front of the room and took role to make sure no one was missing. And then they were sent to bed, a large room filled with bunk beds. Not everyone got one though; there were blankets on the floor for those who weren't quick enough to grab the limited supply of beds. Some mice shared a mattress so there'd be room but that still didn't leave enough beds available. In this case, however, Basil preferred to lay on the ground. He didn't plan on sleeping. It would be easier to move about when Nellie made her scheduled arrival, which, as Basil spent the next few hours fighting fatigue and gazing at his pocket watch, happened right on time. At 3:30am, there was a tap on the window.

Basil's ears perked up. Most everyone else was asleep. He sat up and looked to the window. Nellie stood outside the sixth-story window on a mouse-sized suspended scaffold, used by window washers. She'd lowered herself down from the roof.

"Need your windows done, sir?" she asked playfully, peering through the glass with her emerald eyes.

"Why yes, these windows are a bit dirty aren't they?" he answered, never so happy to see her face again as he was now.

Basil reached into the inside pocket of his coat and took out a short metal tool with a small, sharpened wheel at the end. A glass cutter.

Their banter had caused some of the nearby mice to stir in their sleep. Basil looked back at them, before turning to Nellie and motioning her to be quiet by putting his finger up to his mouth. He couldn't risk the commotion alerting the night watchman before he got the glass removed from the window so people could escape. Nellie nodded, and looked on as Basil came up to the window, and starting at the bottom right corner where the glass met the nailed-down window sill, he pressed the tool into the glass, rolling the tool back and forth until he made his way through. He then slid the tool upward, and then across. On the other side Nellie kept the glass stable with her hands, and when it finally came loose, she helped Basil take it out and he placed it on the ground.

"So, how was your day?" Nellie asked with a grin.

"I think I should listen to you more often," Basil groaned, breathing in the fresh night air, "Anyway, lets get these mice out of here. This place is horrid."

"I hate to say I told you so."

"No you don't," Basil interjected sarcastically. He then turned and whistled. "Alright everyone, time to wake up. We're breaking out of here."

"Ah pipe down will ya?" muttered Roc, until he looked up and rubbed his eyes. He shook his friend Sammy awake, "Say, wake up! He cut the glass! We're bustin' out tonight!"

One by one the mice awoke, and soon they started crowding over.

"Now now, this scaffold can probably only hold five at a time, we need to be careful," Basil warned, "Three of you can come for the first trip. If we're quiet, the guards won't come in after us."

Basil hopped through the window and stood with Nellie. The mice pushed forward, crowding the window.

"One at a time now…" Nellie said.

Basil reached out and helped a little girl onto the scaffold. Dylan O'Brian was next up, followed by a burly Sicilian mouse with a thick moustache. Once everyone was loaded on, Nellie and Basil pulled the ropes on the pulleys, taking the scaffold up to the roof. It was strenuous, but once there, everyone got off. Basil and Nellie lowered it back down to the window, and five more got on. With over forty mice in the room, it took a long while to get everyone out. From there the mice traveled down the metal foldable staircases on the side of the building, down to the ground below and off on their way. Many expressed their gratitude to the detective and the reporter before they left, Basil being hugged by far more children than he was comfortable with. After more than an hour, they oversaw the last of the group make it to the roof. This included the young Native American man Basil had been seated next to.

"I wish to extend to you my whole-hearted thanks, Basil," he said with a bow, "I have been trapped here in the upper world for weeks now. My name is Hakan. Before I return to my tribe, I am indebted to you and I wish to repay that debt."

Nellie and Basil exchanged glances.

"You don't have to do that, good sir," Basil said, "Just run along back to your reservation, and be more careful of crooked conmen when you return to the city."

"I know not the meaning of this 'reservation' you speak of," Hakan said, "I left my tribe to visit the upper world because I had grown tired of our way of life down below the ground, in hiding. I wanted to see the sun, to breathe the air, to see the blue skies that I had only heard of in stories. Instead, I met a gold-fanged rat, who placed me in that place…"

Basil was growing more and more fascinated with this fellow.

"Do you mean to tell me that somewhere below the surface there is, completely intact, a group of indigenous mice who avoided European conquest by going into hiding?"

"Do not tell any other upper worlders about it. But you are correct."

Basil turned to Nellie, "He called us 'upper worlders'…"

"Oh really, the very idea," Nellie said skeptically, "I suppose there's a clan of Puritans living beneath London too, fleeing persecution."

"Tell me dear sir, how well might your tribe know how to navigate the city's sewer and storm drainage system?" Basil asked.

"The European humans built many tunnels below the ground. Our tribe has used these tunnels as a way of coming to the upper world for food. Only the Chief and a select few are allowed up above, for our own safety. But the Chief knows many tunnels, maybe all of them."

"Hmm…if he knows where Warren hides out, he might be our best clue," Basil said, formulating a plan.

"Really, Basil? You're honestly planning on…"

"Yes dear Ms. Brie I am seriously planning on taking this lead as it may be the best one we have," Basil interrupted, "Are you planning on coming along?"

"I think the two of you have been at the sewing machines too long."

Basil put an arm around her shoulders, "Come now Nellie, where's your sense of adventure?"

"Well, I suppose it might make a good newspaper article, if it were true," Nellie said.

"Ah ah ah, except that you can't report on this part of the case or else you'd be violating the trust of our dear friend here and his tribe, who don't want the world knowing about them."

"So I wouldn't even get an article out of it?" Nellie sounded disappointed.

"No, but you'd get to be there when we uncover Warren's lair, and you could write all about that, just make up how we found it."

"I don't know how I let you talk me into these sorts of zany schemes, Basil."

"Then it's settled!" Basil said with a smile, "Alright then. I think we'll need time to prepare for the journey and pack, plus it is rather late…err…early. What say we go back to the apartment and rest before planning everything from there, sound good?"

"Lead the way," said Nellie, "You can fill me in on what happened while we head back."

The three of them made their way down the steel staircases, sliding down most of the way, until reaching the sidewalk below.

"I wish I could be there to see the look on McNibble's face," Hakan remarked.

"Indeed, this will be his ruin. And I'm sure Warren will be none too pleased," Basil said with satisfaction.

"Did you get Warren to admit he bought the stolen artifacts?" Nellie asked.

"Sadly no," Basil said, "He was too smart to admit to it, but I still think he has them."

"How about evidence that he's a cat in disguise?" Nellie asked.

"Ah yes…tell me Nellie did you stop to look at his teeth when you saw him?"

"Well I always see that gold fang of his…"

"No buck teeth though."

"Now that you mention it, that is a little odd."

"His nose is also perfectly round and cone shaped. I think it's being held there with a string," Basil deduced, "We'll get to the bottom of that before long."

"Hm, well now you have me thinking," Nellie said, "Anyway, did anything else important happen in there?"

"Oh yes, I talked to a chap who had seen Fievel's family on the boat. I got a description of them and everything, plus a little background information on them."

Nellie smiled, "And here I didn't think you cared about Fievel."

"I was bored in there, as long as there was some kind of case to follow it was more interesting that sewing," Basil said, denying he had any other reason for looking into it.

"I think you're just a big softy deep down inside and you don't want to admit it," she teased, linking her arm with his as they walked.

"That's a load of rubbish and you know it," Basil retorted.

"Nah, I don't think so," Nellie giggled, "You aren't the only one around here who's good at deductive reasoning."

"So, you two are a couple?" Hakan asked.

They both stopped and looked back at Hakan, before exchanging bashful glances.

"Depends on how you define the term, I suppose…" Basil answered nervously.

"Ahem, erm…yes, good answer," Nellie chimed in. The truth was neither of them were sure just yet.

Hakan gave a smirk, "Okay, I will ask no more questions."

Hakan wasn't too shabby at deductive reasoning himself, Basil realized.


	12. Chapter 12

The three of them took their time and slept in the next morning, Basil being the first one up. He was already enjoying tea and crumpets over the day's issue of the Daily Nibbler, sitting in his robe in the living room, when Nellie awoke and came out around a half hour later, still in her nightgown, her hair down. Hakan lay resting on a sofa in the room.

"So, have they heard about the breakout at the sweatshop yet?" Nellie asked, coming over to read over Basil's shoulder.

"It doesn't look like it, maybe it will make the evening edition," Basil said, sipping some tea, "If anyone of the former employees recognized us and tell the press what we did, we'll probably have quite the price on our heads once Warren gets wind of it."

"Yes I imagine so," said Nellie with a yawn, "It's not like we don't already."

"We can probably rule out going anywhere in daylight anymore unless we have an extremely convincing disguise. And I've just about used all of the ones I brought with me."

"But fortunately we'll be navigating lost underground tunnels for the time being," Nellie said, glancing toward Hakan, "We just need to get to wherever the entrance is and hope we don't run into any cats along the way."

"Another day, another dangerous day of risking our lives. Nothing we can't handle."

"Well I'm going to go wash up," she said, walking toward the bathroom, "We can discuss our plans once I'm out."

"Right. Can't have you being dirty while we're trudging through old tunnels and sewers."

"Very funny." she said with a smirk, looking back at him.

"You know, I've never seen you with your hair down until just now, I mean aside from after the cat attack. You look nice."

Nellie was caught off guard, and blushed at the compliment, "Why…thank you. I guess I always keep my hair in a bun to make it more manageable…"

"Oh I understand that, I just…notice your hair more when it's down is all," Basil said, clearing his throat.

"But you notice everything, Basil."

"Ah yes, quite right," Basil admitted with a chuckle, "At any rate, carry on. I'll finish my breakfast."

"I won't be long." she said.

Nellie smiled and closed the door behind her, thinking over what he'd said to herself. Obviously he was trying to tell her something, she thought as she looked at herself in the mirror for a moment, taking in how she looked. Really she hadn't taken this much consideration into her appearance since she was a giddy schoolgirl trying to impress the boys.

Hakan began to stir on the sofa, before sitting up and rubbing his eyes, his long black hair draped over his shoulders. He'd slept in his clothes, which were "upper-worlder" clothes; a black sweatshirt with blue pants, obviously not the buckskin clothing he probably wore back where he was from. The reddish fur tone and the hair length were what really gave him away though.

"Rise and shine, Hakan," Basil said, sipping his tea, "We have a big day ahead dear boy."

He yawned, "I have grown homesick, I am excited to return, although I fear the Chief will be very mad when he sees me again, and I do not know how he will react to my bringing upper-worlders along."

"Hm, tell me, what is the name of your tribe? I do know a few things about indigenous American mice."

"We are the Lenape. More than two hundred years ago we lived on this land, at peace with nature. Before all of these buildings were here and we were driven underground."

"Ah yes, the Lenape, some of the first natives that the Dutch settlers encountered in the 1600's. Well this will be a unique learning experience, I'm most excited. The only pity is that I'll need to keep what I've seen to myself, but don't worry old chap, your secret will be safe with Nellie and I."

"I trust that it will, my friend," Hakan said, "Otherwise I would not have told you of our greatest treasure."

After a few minutes of waiting, as Hakan helped himself to some crumpets, Nellie emerged from the bathroom, her wet hair wrapped in a towel and dressed in a robe. She quickly went into her room to change.

"Alright then Hakan, I think we're almost ready. Now where is the entrance to these hidden tunnels?"

"In the wooded area your people call Central Park, there is a statue. Hidden in the statue is a secret opening. We will go there."

"Aha, very well then." Basil said, walking to the closet and grabbing his brown longcoat, taking the robe off. He was already wearing a vest, tie and slacks underneath. As he fastened his hat on his head, Nellie emerged in her normal green dress. Except she was wearing her hair down now, her red hair coming down to her shoulders, though neatly combed and held together in the back with hair clips to keep it from getting in the way too much.

"Alright, I'm ready. Do we know where we're going?" she asked nonchalantly, as if nothing were different.

Basil eyed her hairstyle, "Hakan told me of a secret entranceway at Central Park. You know the city better than either of us do I think, so you can guide us that far until Hakan takes over."

"Okay, we'll take the trolley again," Nellie said, "I know that park fairly well."

Hakan snuck a few crumpets into his pockets as he picked the lantern up from the table. When Basil raised an eyebrow at him, he gave a sheepish grin.

"I know not what is in these 'crumpets', but I like it…"

"I don't suppose your people ever had access to cheese. You're welcome to take them then," Basil said, as they walked toward the door.

The trip to Central Park was rather uneventful, they managed to get to the stop just as the trolley arrived, and rode it for some time until it stopped at the gates of Central Park. To a mouse Central Park was like a dense jungle, the size of a national park to humans. Thus the mice and rats who occupied the park tended to be of the more rural sort, despite being surrounded by a city. The park was also home to a pack of stray dogs known as the Council of Dogs; Nellie had gone to them before for leads on the stories she was working on. But luckily for them they only needed to stay on the paved pathway until arriving at a tall statue of a human near a fountain. Dodging the footsteps of humans, the trio made it to the stone statue.

"Well, here we are Hakan," said Nellie, "Now where is that secret door?"

Hakan put the lantern down on the ground and placed his hands against the stone and walked along its side, "You must feel for it, we made it nearly undetectable to upper-worlders when we carved it…"

Basil walked ahead of Hakan, before stopping at a spot and pushing with his hand. The door slid open. Hakan blinked in surprise.

"Now let's get in fast before anyone sees us."

"Don't worry Hakan, I still think your secret entrance is safe. Just not from Basil," Nellie said with amusement.

Hakan shrugged and picked the lantern up again, "Very well then, Basil and Nellie. Follow me."

Hakan led the way as the trio moved in through the passageway. Nellie closed the doorway behind her and Hakan lit the lantern.

"Hm, this upper world torch device is very effective," he noted, holding it in front of him.

The tunnel made a sharp turn downward for a long time, going down below the statue and underground. They continued until the tunnel leveled off at a long metal pipe.

"We follow the pipe," Hakan said, turning and walking alongside it in the dark tunnel.

"My, it's a good thing none of us are claustrophobic," Nellie said, hugging her chest and eyeing the walls of the very narrow passageway.

"Only fools are fearless, right dear Nellie?" Basil slowed down to walk alongside her, "These narrow tunnels are a bit uneasy to be in for me too."

"Too an upper-worlder used to the open air and the sky above their heads it would take some getting used to," Hakan commented, "To us Lenape, we have lived this way for generations."

Basil and Nellie exchanged glances, both feeling a tinge of guilt on behalf of the Native American mice, and wondering how well their presence was going to be received.

"I do apologize for that, I mean…as little as that apology is probably worth," Nellie said.

"You yourself are not guilty. The actions of your people two hundred years ago were not your own. Besides, I am indebted to you both, remember? The Chief will understand that when we get there, whether you are Europeans or not."

As he finished speaking, the tunnel around the pipe gave way to a wider cavern area. The walls of the cave were wet, and the faint sound of water flowing in the distance could he heard.

"We are getting closer now. Come with me."

"I wonder, are we getting close to the harbor?" Basil asked, having for once lost his sense of direction in these underground caverns.

"What you are hearing is the water that flows through the human tunnels above us. Soon we will be underneath the tunnel of the great steel snake, that for now rests beneath the earth in dormancy."

"Steel snake…I think he may mean the abandoned pneumatic subway train," Nellie suggested, "I know where that is."

They continued on, emerging from between a very tight space between two rocks, having to cross through sideways. They emerged into an open area, with paintings on the walls.

"Well now, how very interesting," Basil said as he examined the art. It seemed to be a map of the cave system, written in a pictogram language the mice must have developed independently. Except that in the pathway ahead, the map had pictures of spikes, arrows, hot coals, and other unpleasant things. "Hm, I don't suppose we're going that way, are we?"

"Hahaha, no, those booby traps are just in case of an invasion," Hakan said as he placed his hand against a red paw print on the wall. As he did, the cave wall on one side opened up.

"I say, ingenious," Basil said in awe, "Your people are highly advanced, all things considered."

Hakan led the way once again. The tunnel ahead was flat and well-carved, not nearly as constricting as the past ones. They emerged down a stairway, which opened into a huge underground cave system lit with torches, and dotted with teepees along the ground.

"By jove…" Basil breathed.

"Okay, there goes the last of my skepticism," Nellie said as she gazed down at the village.

They were spotted from afar by a mouse stationed up above in a basket that was dangling from the ceiling by ropes, who blew a horn to call attention to the rest of the village. Soon, villagers came pouring from the tents, and the trio were surrounded by Natives with spears in their hands. Hakan stood in front of Basil and Nellie, speaking to them in his native Lenape tongue.

"Any idea what he's saying?" Nellie asked in a whisper.

"…well I don't know _everything_, you know…"

The crowd parted to make way for a tall, muscular mouse, dressed in a loincloth and adorned with feathers. Beside him walked a young girl wearing a buckskin dress, her black hair tied in pigtails.

"Aha, that would be the chief," Basil said.

Not knowing what else to do, Basil bowed before the Chief. Nellie soon followed suit. The Chief stared down at them.

"You may rise, upper-worlders," he said.

Basil and Nellie stood up. "Ahem, well, it's an honor to meet you dear sir. I'm relieved you speak English."

"Our tribe dealt with your kind long enough to learn your language, before we learned to distrust you," the Chief said accusingly, "But, my nephew Hakan has been missing for weeks, and he tells us you saved him from a terrible fate."

"Yes, we did," Nellie explained, "He was being forced to work at a shop making clothes for no pay. We helped everyone escape."

"Hm…it does not surprise me that such places exist up above, it only disappoints me," said the Chief, "It was noble of you to come to the aid of Hakan and the other prisoners. We Lenape mice do not forget such favors. Pray, tell us your names."

"I'm Nellie Brie."

"Basil of Baker Street at your service."

"Hmm…Nellie and Basil, what you are seeing now is something no European has ever seen, and was never meant to see. Our elders told us that if such a day should ever come to pass, we have two options: allow you to live among us permanently, or put you to death."

Basil and Nellie exchanged worried glances. The young girl bit her lip and looked up at her father.

"But Chief, these two saved my life," Hakan protested, "I can feel that their spirits are true, they will never betray us."

"How do we know we can ever trust you not to reveal this secret place to the outside world if we let you leave?" the Chief asked.

Nellie and Basil were silent for a moment, at a loss of how to prove their trustworthiness, until Basil spoke up.

"I know that your trust is asking for a lot, after the way your people have been victimized by my own. But let me just say that my colleague and I are committed to the betterment of the upper-world, it is our duty to combat crime and to help those in need, just like we helped Hakan. As such, we would not dare subject your people to more suffering than you've already endured."

"Basil's right, you have our word," said Nellie, "I vow never to tell a soul about this place."

"Hmmm…" the Chief looked down in thought. His daughter tugged on his arm.

"Father, I do not think these two will harm us." she said with a smile.

"Nor do I, Cholena," he said, picking her up in his arms, "Very well, Basil and Nellie, you are welcome visitors to our tribe."

"They have even brought a peace offering," said Hakan, reaching into his pocket to take out a cheese crumpet, "They call it a cheese crumpet."

"I have heard legend of this cheese crumpet you speak of," the Chief said, taking the crumpet and biting into it, "Mmm…this is most delicious."

"Indeed, it's unfortunate my maid didn't come with me from London or I'd give you the very best-tasting ones," Basil said.

Nellie and Basil's stay with the Lenape would be a most fascinating visit indeed. For the sake of his own interest, though not allowed to divulge anything once he left, Basil wanted to learn all he could about their way of life before they had to make their leave. Though it was driving Nellie mad finding out about all of this and not being allowed to report on it at all. She had a promise to keep.


	13. Chapter 13

Basil and Nellie were soon taken to separate tents and dressed up in the local garb as the rest of the tribe prepared a welcoming ceremony; the Chief's daughter Cholena braided Nellie's hair into pigtails as one of the other tribal women fitted her for a buckskin dress and painted Nellie's face, giving her a bead necklace as well. Meanwhile Basil was given buckskin pants and moccasins to wear, going shirtless like all men in the tribe did, as he was painted with ceremonial war paint on his head and chest, and given a bandanna with a feather in it to wear. From what Basil could gather the makeover was part of a ceremony and meant that they were being accepted as honorary members of the tribe, however brief their stay was going to be. Basil found the experience to be quite fascinating indeed. As soon as they exited their tents and got a look at each other, Nellie burst out laughing.

"What's so funny?" Basil asked, as his feather drooped in front of his eye and he blew it back upward again, crossing his arms.

"Oh I don't know, I just never pictured you dressed like that," she giggled.

"I must say you do make a good Indian maiden," Basil said.

"Come, the feast in your honor is ready to commence," said Cholena, holding Nellie's hand.

"Very well then dear girl, just guide us there," Basil said.

Mice danced around the campfire as the Lenape tribe honored their guests with a grand feast, the Chief rehearsing incantations over the fire as drums were played. Among the dancers was Hakan, who seemed like he'd been given a verbal beating by the Chief while Nellie and Basil had been getting their indigenous makeovers. Basil could tell he looked nervous, and he avoided eye contact with them.

Basil and Nellie sat cross-legged on the ground and helped themselves to berries and tiny melons, which apparently had been grown right there underground. Perhaps their small size could be attributed to a lack of sunlight, Basil thought. Next to Nellie sat Cholena, who explained to them how they brought water in from underground rivers to help grow their crops. Everything in the caves was lit by torch lights placed in strategic areas, making it surprisingly bright, which Cholena claimed helped the plants to grow.

However, questions about this place plagued Basil's mind. Where did all of the wood for the torches come from? How were they able to grow anything underground, without any real sunlight? There was obviously more to this place than met the eye, but then again, Hakan did mention that the Chief and a select few others ventured to the surface fairly often, perhaps for supplies. Maybe he wanted to give his tribe the illusion that they were self-sufficient, so they wouldn't feel the need to leave, like Hakan had. Did the Chief have connections with someone up above? Whatever was going on, the fact that they were forced to lead such an existence down here was depressing to say the least. But, they seemed to have adjusted well.

The girl, Cholena, had been taught English and took the job of explaining things to Basil and Nellie. She was a charming young girl, who didn't seem to have any fear of 'upper-worlders', instead she seemed fascinated by them. And she was old enough to where being around her didn't make Basil _too _uneasy, though she was still a child. Basil sat on the opposite side of Nellie from Cholena to keep some distance.

"What is London like?" Cholena asked Basil, "How far away is it?"

"Ah, well, it's rainy and foggy an awful lot. I wouldn't say it has as huge of a crime problem as New York though it does have it's criminals. I think it's a nice place to live myself, and I want to help keep it that way. And it's across the Atlantic. It takes several days to get there by boat."

"I think I might like to travel to London one day," Nellie said, eyeing Basil.

"I'd like that very much, Ms. Brie," Basil said with a smile.

"So you are from Europe?" Cholena asked, "Did you come here to live in America like the rest of the upper-worlders?"

"Yes I am, but I'm afraid I can't really stay here in America. I'm only here to solve a crime."

"Will Nellie come with you when you go home?" Cholena asked.

That was the trouble with children, Basil thought. They never knew when not to address the 'elephant in the room' as it were. Nellie sighed a bit and brought her knees up to her chest, hugging them.

"I have an important job at a newspaper here in New York. One that I worked really hard to get, and one that might be very hard to get again somewhere else," her ears went down a bit, "So…I don't know. Maybe I'll try to work something out..."

She gazed over at Basil.

"You'll have plenty of time to work that out," Basil said, "I'll be quite busy going after Ratigan again upon my return to London."

"Not too busy to respond to letters I hope," Nellie said.

"Of course not."

Nellie reached down and held Basil's hand, smiling at him.

"I hope you'll wait for me."

"Not to worry, dear Nellie. I never was the most social mouse," he gave a light chuckle.

Cholena watched them with youthful curiosity, not at all picking up on what was being said between the lines.

The Chief threw dust into the fire and made a proclamation in the Lenape tongue, diverting their attention.

"May I ask what he's saying?" Basil inquired.

"He is calling upon the spirits of the Earth to embrace you," Cholena said, "This may be the first visitor's ceremony we have ever had."

The Chief turned to them.

"The spirits have welcomed you into our tribe, though your stay need not be permanent. After some meditation, I believe that the spirits have guided you here for a purpose."

"Guided us here?" Nellie asked, "I can't really imagine what for."

"What we really came here, sir, was for your expertise in the underground tunnel ways of New York."

"So you did not come here out of curiosity about our tribe?"

"Not solely, no," Basil replied.

"Didn't Hakan tell you that?" asked Nellie.

"No…but maybe it is because I did not give him a chance to explain. Leaving for the upper-world is a grave crime. Endangering himself is one thing, but he endangered us all by leaving. He will be punished, but after you leave."

"Please do not be too harsh on him, father," Cholena said.

"Your heart is kind, my daughter, but you do not fully understand," the Chief said, "We will talk more after the ceremony. For now, enjoy yourselves."

Basil watched as the muscular mouse made his way to his tent, closing the flap and not wishing to be disturbed.

"I hope we haven't caused more harm than good, coming here," said Nellie.

"As do I. After this feast we mustn't overstay our welcome."

"You will be leaving soon?" Cholena asked, disheartened.

"I'm afraid we were never going to stay here for that long anyway," Nellie said, patting her head, "We have a crime to solve, and your father can help us."

"I will miss you both," she remarked.

"Well dear girl…I hope that you get to see the world someday," Basil said, feeling sympathy for her being trapped underground. The more he thought about it the less he could blame Hakan for trying to escape.

After enjoying the hearty feast, Cholena escorted them to her father's tent. Hakan, having finished the spiritual dance routine, followed close behind, though fearing facing the chief again.

"The feast has finished, father," Cholena said.

"Then enter."

Cholena opened the flap, and all three walked in. The Chief was sitting cross-legged in front of a long portrait made entirely of beads, depicting pictograms and such. It was quite elaborate.

"Do you know what this is?" the Chief asked.

Basil came closer and examined it, "Hm…it looks to be a sort of…illustrated story I suppose."

"This is our tribe's history, from the earliest times to our times down here," the Chief replied, "This here is our greatest treasure. One which has been protected for generations."

Hakan gave a nervous look, as the Chief turned around.

"I hope that when you return to the surface, you will do your best to protect this treasure, and all it represents. Or else…it will never be added to again, it will only end up in a European museum, if not destroyed altogether."

Nellie and Basil wore somber expressions.

"We understand, Chief," Nellie said, "Not a word about this place to anyone when we return."

"We understand the significance of your culture and your people," Basil assured him.

"You have given me no reason to doubt you. You have been respectful and honorable thus far. I think that Hakan judged your character well."

"About that, you aren't going to be too harsh on him for leaving are you?" Nellie asked, "I'd say working in that sweatshop was punishment enough."

"It will take some time, but I will forgive him. I think he has learned much from his time up above. It should prove to be an effective cautionary tale for my tribe."

"Yes Chief, I won't let our people forget what it was like up there, as we discussed," Hakan answered.

Basil didn't like the sound of his tale being used to control the rest of the tribe through fear…but there was very little he could do, they were guests at the Chief's mercy.

"So what is it you want in return for rescuing Hakan?" the Chief asked.

"We were told you know the sewer systems of the city quite well," Basil said.

"This is true. As you may have guessed, sometimes it is necessary to go to the surface for supplies. Which is the reason for the existence of that secret tunnel Hakan showed you."

By the tone of his voice Basil could tell that was a bit of a sore spot.

"What we were hoping was that maybe you knew something about the lair of a cat gang," Nellie said.

"Hm, you mean the cave of the cats?" the Chief asked.

"That sounds like an apt description," Basil said.

"It is a dangerous place. Why do you wish to be taken there?"

"We're tracking down a criminal," Nellie replied, "One who's responsible for the existence of the sweatshop Hakan was sold to, and innumerable other travesties in New York."

"Very brave of you indeed," he said, crossing his arms, "Hakan and I will take you close, and point you in the direction of it. But we will not enter with you."

"Understood," Basil said with a smile.

"When do you wish to leave?"

"By my estimation it is around sunset up above. It would be best to arrive at night I believe, when Warren should be there and not elsewhere. So…soon."

"We will leave soon then," said the Chief, "You may want to change back into your upper-world clothes. We do not want any evidence that you were here."

"Shame, I was enjoying the way you looked with no shirt on," Nellie said, flashing a sassy grin at Basil, who chuckled and cleared his throat.

"You may keep the necklace Cholena made for you, if you like," said the Chief, "But that is all."

"You know I think I will," Nellie said, patting Cholena's head as she smiled.

"Very well then, let us get ready to leave," said Basil, opening the tent flap for Nellie as they exited the tent.

"Will I ever get to see the upper-world, father?" Cholena asked, looking up at his towering figure.

"Perhaps, when you are older, I will take you up to see it," he said, "But it is not safe up above…it will have to be when you are much older."


	14. Chapter 14

After about one more hour, once Basil and Nellie had changed back into their regular attire (though Nellie hadn't bothered to unbraid her pigtails), the tribe gathered around to see off these new foreign guests at the opening of the tunnel out of their sanctuary from the upper-world. The Chief and Hakan joined them.

"The journey should not take very long," said the Chief, "The tunnel to the den of the cats is just down the underground river from which we get our water."

'I hope that water is from a storm drain and not a sewer,' Basil thought.

"Alright, thank you for coming with to show us the way," Nellie said gratefully, "Our stay has been fun, when we get back to the surface we'll do our best to make the surface safe enough so that one day we can all enjoy it together."

"You have been most respectful guests. If there is one thing this has proven, it is that there is compassion to be found in all mice."

"I will miss you," Cholena said.

"We'll miss you too," said Nellie with a smile, "Thanks for the necklace."

"Let us go then," said the Chief, "Come, Hakan."

"Yes, Chief," Hakan said, "It will be a pity to have to part with you, Basil and Nellie."

"Yes dear Hakan, you've been a good companion," said Basil, "Well then, let us head off."

With that the Chief lit a torch with the flame of another, and took the lead, escorting them through the mouth of the tunnel as the members of the Lenape tribe gathered and waved farewell to their guests. Initially they went through the same way they got in, a wide underground cave with painted pictograms on the walls. Venturing deeper they came to the secret panel; the Chief put his hand over the paw print and it slid open.

"Though I dare not venture the other way, I wonder about what technological intricacies lie within the 'booby trapped' area," Basil remarked.

"You would surely not survive the trip if you were to see it for yourself," said the Chief, "You would be sliced by blades, pierced by a thousand arrows, and cooked over hot coals."

"I'm content with leaving it all to the imagination," said Nellie.

"It does sound quite remarkable though," said Basil.

"Such technology is lost to us now, we are now a peaceful tribe," the Chief explained, as he led them down another tunnel.

They could hear flowing water in the distance, and the walls of the cave became wet to the touch. But Basil had lost site of their footprints from the way in a number of hours earlier, meaning this was now a different cave from the one he'd followed Hakan here in. The ground started to slope upward toward the surface. Following the Chief through twists and turns, he passed through a narrow crevasse, which the other three behind him had to squeeze through to get into. The sound of rushing water was louder now. They came up to another steel pipe, this one open at the end.

"You must climb through this pipe to get to the upper tunnel. When you emerge, turn right and follow the flow of the water. It will lead you to the den of cats. Hakan and I will return now. Many thanks for bringing my nephew back to me."

"And many thanks for freeing me from the sweat shop," Hakan said with a smile.

Basil shook his hand, "It was no problem old chap, pleasure to be of service."

Nellie gave him a small hug and smiled, "Take care of yourself Hakan."

"We will seal this pipe after you leave, just to be safe," said the Chief.

"Understood, you can never be too careful." said Basil, crouching in and surveying the inside of the pipe, "Are you ready, Nellie?"

"As ready as I'll ever be." she said, "Good by Chief, Hakan…"

"Good bye," said Hakan. He was going to miss his new companions. Maybe one day, though, he would return to the surface, he thought.

Basil climbed in, on his hands and knees. It wasn't too tight of a squeeze for him. Nellie on the other hand had to take a deep breath and prepare herself before entering, watching Basil in front of her and biting her lip as they entered the pitch-black pipe.

"Claustrophobia acting up again, Nellie?" Basil asked.

"J-just a little," she replied meekly, admitting her anxiety.

"Just remember that I'm right in front of you. Try not to let your mind play tricks on you; just keep climbing."

"Okay Basil, I'll try," she said, climbing up through the pipe behind Basil. The pipe soon curved straight upward.

"Follow the sound of the water." Basil said, standing up, "Here, I'll simply brace with my arms and legs…"

Spreading his arms and legs he was able to climb the sides of the pipe upward. Nellie waited until he was high enough up and did the same.

"Don't fall now," she said, since Basil would have nowhere to fall but on top of her.

"Not to worry…" Basil said.

The pipe went on for a long time, to the point where if they were to fall, it would end very painfully for them. But eventually, Basil felt the pipe curve horizontally, and was able to crawl on his arms and legs again. Nellie soon followed behind. There was a dim light at the end of the pipe.

"We're almost there now," said Basil.

"Thank goodness," Nellie panted.

In a few moments Basil and Nellie both emerged from a broken pipe along the brick wall of one of New York's large underground storm drains.

"Well here we are," said Basil, looking around, "Wait a moment…do you hear something?"

Basil could almost hear the high pitched sound of a violin echoing off the walls.

"I think so," Nellie replied.

"Come on, I'd wager it's coming from Warren's hideout."

The two of them scampered through the tunnel, along the softly flowing water. It was certainly creepy down there, every once in a while they'd see a cockroach scuttle by. As they continued though, they began to hear splashes and footsteps ahead of them.

"Stop," Basil whispered, and the two of them listened, "I don't think that's a cockroach…"

"It doesn't sound big enough to be a cat though, at least I don't think," said Nellie.

"Alright, let's move on…but quietly."

The lighting was dim, only coming from the street lamps above shining through the storm drain grates. But as they moved, they could make out the familiar shape of a small mouse in the distance.

"What's a young mouse doing down here?" Nellie whispered.

"I don't know…think we should risk calling out to him?" Basil asked, not sure if this mouse might be affiliated with Warren somehow.

"If the mouse is lost down here I think we should help," Nellie said.

The little mouse scurried through a narrow tunnel, as black, slimy cockroaches began to crawl behind it. Just the sight of it sent chills down their spines.

"Child, watch out behind you!" Nellie called out.

The mouse turned around, and gasped at the sight of the bugs. He ran for it, and Basil and Nellie ran too, splashing through puddles. The child leapt across a chasm, grabbing hold of some lichen dangling from the steel grating of a storm drain cover, which filtered light down from a street lamp as the ledge he jumped from collapsed, with the roaches on it. Basil could hear the sound of something splashing below, and the crunching of bug bodies. As he and Nellie came closer through the narrow tunnel, they then realized who they'd been following.

"Why, Mr. Mousekovsky!" Basil exclaimed, standing at the opening of the tunnel, at the edge of where the ground gave way.

"Mousekewitz, Basil," Nellie corrected him.

"Whatev-my word…what on Earth _is_ that thing?" Basil was taken aback by the sight of the strange beast below, munching and gorging itself on the cockroaches.

"I…have no idea," Nellie said, looking over the edge of the chasm fearfully.

"I've a fairly acute understanding of zoology, and I still don't know. Is it a salamander? A pike? Some new species?"

Fievel looked on at them silently.

"It doesn't matter. What are you doing down here Fievel?" Nellie asked.

"I-I heard a violin. I think my papa's down here."

"Confound it child, not every bloody violin in New York belongs to your father." Basil replied irritably.

"But I just have a feeling that it's him! I've gotta at least look." Fievel protested.

"Fievel, we have reason to believe that there's a gang of very dangerous cats down here," Nellie lectured, "It's too dangerous."

Fievel got to his feet.

"I'm not afraid of no mean old cat. Bridget says in America we shouldn't have to be afraid of cats. I'm gonna go find my family."

"For heaven's sake dear boy, listen to her!" Basil shouted, "Look, why don't you stay there, and we'll go ahead and if we see your father we'll come back and get you. Fair enough?"

"I wanna go myself," Fievel replied stubbornly.

Basil cursed under his breath. He listened; the violin was getting easier to hear. It seemed to be playing a particularly atrocious rendition of Stephen Foster's "Beautiful Dreamer", screeching the high notes.

"Does your father play violin that horribly?" Basil asked sarcastically, "I thought you said that was his profession."

Seeming offended, Fievel frowned, straightened his hat, and ran ahead. Basil slapped his forehead.

"Come back here!"

"Great. You sure have a way with kids, Basil," Nellie said with a sigh, "We have to catch up with him."

They gazed up at the dangling lichen above, and then down at the hideous salamander-like animal. They then exchanged glances.

"Think you can make a jump like that?" Basil asked.

"I can try…" Nellie said nervously, "How about you?"

"I certainly hope so," Basil said, stroking his chin and trying to work out the logistics, "Alright, I'll get a running head start. If I run for approximately six inches and jump just before I reach the edge of the chasm, the momentum should get me to that dangling lichen or moss….whatever that is…and I should be able to swing to the ledge. You too. That is, if it supports my weight."

"Well hurry, Fievel's rushing into Warren's den." Nellie warned.

"Alright alright," Basil said, looking down at the watery chasm once more with a gulp, "Here goes nothing."

Moving back, he got a running head start, and made a leap. He grasped for the lichen, and got a firm grip. Looking down, he could see the amphibious beast below him, snarling hungrily. He swung himself back and forth, before jumping onto the ledge. He then turned around.

"You can do it Nellie," he said.

Taking a breath, she tried to forget about the hungry beast beneath them and walked back to get a head start. Fievel's life might be at stake, she reminded herself. Biting her lip, she readied herself, and then sprinted, making a leap and grabbing at the lichen. When she caught it, she felt a sudden jolt. It was ripping.

"Swing, Nellie!" Basil shouted, reaching out to her.

Nellie looked down, the lizard beast hissed and licked it's teeth, hungry for mouse. She then looked at Basil with wide eyes, as the lichen began to tear after having held the weight of three mice now. Taking another breath, she swung her legs, afraid to put even more pressure on it. Soon, she swung far enough to reach the ledge. As she did, the lichen finally tore. Flailing madly, she was able to grab Basil's hand, as the lizard gorged itself on the snack of lichen from above. Basil strained himself to pull her up, and not be dragged down himself. Once she was up, she got on her hands and knees, panting, and Basil sat down.

"Close call…" Basil panted, "I should have let you go first…wasn't very gentlemanly of me."

"It's…it's alright," Nellie said, panting and trying to regain some composure. She stood up, still a bit shaky, "Does that thing just…just wait down there for things to fall into its mouth?"

Basil chuckled a bit, "Quite a peculiar lifestyle. I should tell someone from Oxford about this thing."

"Let's get going," Nellie said, dusting her dress off, which had already seen better days by now.

The two of them simply followed the sound of the music, trying desperately to catch up to Fievel before he got himself into even bigger trouble.

'It's no wonder that boy lost his family in the first place,' Basil muttered in annoyance as they ran.


	15. Chapter 15

The sound of the violin became louder, it's screeches making Basil's fur stand on end.

"Whoever that is, playing a violin that way ought to be a criminal offense itself!" Basil said, making Nellie giggle.

As they came closer, they noticed messages painted on the walls. One read "No dogs allowed." The other, "The Mott Street Maulers".

"Well, certainly was nice of them to label their hideout for us, wasn't it?" Nellie asked in amusement.

"That is rather foolish of them. That noisy violin is probably an even worse idea if they don't want others knowing where they are."

They stayed low and walked forward, peeking behind a brick wall into the hideout. It was filled with cats, many of them sitting around a table playing poker. There was an automatic piano at the back of the room. And, as luck would have it, Basil spotted the missing antiques from the museum; a statue and a clamshell mirror.

"Do you see Fievel anywhere?" Nellie whispered.

"No…but I do see the stolen artifacts. We now know for certain that Warren is the guilty party," Basil said with a degree of triumph, "The question is now, what do we do about it?"

"What would one normally do in a case that involves a human crime as well?" Nellie asked.

"For that we can discreetly leave a tip-off as to the whereabouts of the artifacts at the police station and leave it up to the humans to get the artifacts out of here and back to London. It's bringing Warren to justice that's the trouble."

"Hm, alright, that makes sense. Speaking of which, where is Warren?"

Basil pointed up near the tip of the statue, where Warren sat on a plush cushion in front of the mirror, attempting to play the violin. Nellie was then shocked to see the truth about Warren; he pulled off his fake nose, saying something to the cockroach Digit. Nellie watched, wide-eyed, as Warren then took off his fake ears and admired himself in the mirror.

"Warren is a cat!" Nellie exclaimed in a whisper.

"I told you," Basil whispered back with a smug grin.

"Why do you have to always be right about everything?" Nellie asked, rolling her eyes.

"You owe me a cheese crumpet now."

"Hey, when did this turn into a bet? I do not."

"Well it ought to have been a bet."

They fell silent when they noticed Warren's attention turn to the mirror. He pulled the glass off and reached in, grabbing at something.

"Uh oh…could it be…?" Nellie looked on.

Warren howled in pain, knocking the mirror over and shattering it, as Fievel hopped out and climbed down the statue.

"I should have known! Why that infernal child!" Basil whispered harshly, as the cats chased after Fievel.

"We have to help him! What do we do?"

The room had erupted in chaos now as the cat gang scrambled over the piano to capture poor Fievel, who was doing a masterly job at evading them, Basil had to admit. He gazed bout the room, there was an exit to another sewer tunnel just in front of the piano, and in it, Basil spotted an old roller skate. Now given the slight incline of the ground perhaps he could work up enough acceleration to outrun the cats…

He got to his feet and darted for it, Nellie blinking in surprise before quickly following his lead. Basil ran up to the roller skate and hopped in, Nellie reaching it next before Fievel came running toward it.

"Over here Fievel!" Basil motioned, and the desperate boy jumped into the roller skate as it began rolling down the tunnel. Basil turned to Nellie, "We need more speed, use your leg!"

Basil pushed against the ground with one leg on the right side of the skate as Nellie did the same on the left side, while Fievel sat behind them watching the cats as they gave chase. They seemed to be doing a good job staying ahead, until Basil noticed the wall up ahead.

"Turn left!" Basil called out, and he and Nellie steered the skate left, while two of the cats simply ran right into the wall.

The incline grew even sharper as the skate rolled downhill, into what looked to be a flooded tunnel. Fievel and Nellie gasped.

"Hold your breath…" Basil warned.

The skate plunged into the water, and the three of them swam forward using the momentum from the skate. However, the cats were undeterred and dove into the water as well. Fievel found his way up to the surface first and continued running, before Basil and Nellie broke the surface and gasped for air. Up above them was a manhole cover, they just needed to climb up to it and they'd be safe. However, just as Basil and Nellie started to climb up after Fievel, they felt something grab them by the legs and drag them back under the water. Basil felt the fur of another cat brush by him, going after Fievel. _Drat! _

After a few moments the cat crawled back out of the water, Nellie and Basil coughing and sputtering as they hung upside down.

"Gotcha, ya little vermin," said a grinning cat, the burly Jake, "I'll make you pay for getting' me wet. I hate water."

Nellie coughed and looked at Basil helplessly, her bloomers exposed upside-down, but there was little she could do about that.

"I'm all out of improvised plans, Nellie," Basil said grimly.

"Well on the bright side, it almost worked," Nellie sighed.

"Aha, now I know who you's two are. Da boss'll love to hear dis one," Jake said as he walked down the tunnel, keeping a firm grasp on the two mice.

As they were carried back helplessly, they heard another splash behind them, as Fievel coughed and screamed.

"Put me down you mean old cat!" he shouted.

"Quiet ya little runt!" the cat who had him shouted.

They were brought into the main chamber, which was now in shambles. A very irate-looking Warren, sans his disguise, stood in the middle of the mess with his arms folded behind his back. Tiger stood off to the side, fidgeting with his tail nervously.

"Did ya get da kid?" Warren demanded bitterly.

"More than dat boss. Look," Jake said with a grin, holding up Nellie and Basil for him to see.

Warren's scowl became a devious gold-toothed grin, "Well well, if it ain't Nellie Brie, snooping as usual I see. And is dat Basil of Baker Street? I told ya the two of you's shoulda taken da next boat back to London. Would've been a nice honeymoon. Instead, ya decided to snoop here, and uncover my doity little secret."

"What secret? I knew you were a filthy, flea-bitten sewer rat right from the start. You hardly needed a disguise," Basil replied defiantly.

Warren frowned, "Wise guy eh? I'll show you how things woik here in America. A lot's changed since we kicked you toffy-nosed British snobs outta here."

"I got da kid boss." said a bushy-furred cat, holding Fievel by his shirt as he squirmed and punched the air.

"Good. We can't let any of these dirty little pests loose," Warren said.

"Does that mean it's chow time boss?" Jake asked with a grin, licking his sharp teeth and holding Nellie up to his eyes, "I wanna eat this one. She's real pretty, heh heh…nice bloomers too. Bet she goes down nice and easy."

"I hope you choke to death on me. And I'd do everything in my power to make it so," she said angrily, trying to take a swipe at his eye but missing.

"Woah woah woah, easy fellas. You don't realize who we got here. We got Nellie Brie, possibly the most famous reporter in America, and Basil of Baker Street, England's greatest detective. If we eat 'em, we stand to miss out on a ton of dough, see?"

"Huh? Whaddya mean boss?" asked Aces, puffing a cigar, holding it with his long sleeves.

"You know that Ratigan's crazy about gettin' revenge on this guy. How much ya think he'd pay for Basil of Baker Street, all tied up and delivered to him via express mail to London?" Warren asked with a sinister grin, "A little gift on our part for those nice artifacts he sold us."

The other cats looked at each other and snickered. Basil frowned. He'd come up with some way to escape before that could happen, he was certain of it.

"Whaddabout the girl boss?" asked Jake.

"Hmm, yes, Nellie Brie…" he walked up to Jake to get a close look at Nellie, "I dunno, I don't think whoever would buy her back from us would wanna kill her. If we let her go she'd rat us out."

Warren stroked his chin in thought.

"You know, you could keep her prisoner, and make her write newspaper articles for you," suggested Digit from up above, "Something to help ensure you keep your cover while we recoup our losses from the sweatshops she's liberated."

"Y'know, I knew there was a reason I haven't eaten you yet Digit," Warren said, "I kinda like da sound of that. My own personal reporter, that every mouse in da city trusts."

"I'll never work for you Warren!" she shouted.

"Oh you will…even if we hafta torture you first, and I hope we do," said Warren.

"If you want to torture me go back to playing that awful violin," Nellie shot back.

Warren glared, "Oooh I'm gonna enjoy makin' you suffer, ya cultureless broad."

"And what about this little guy?" asked the cat who was holding Fievel, "He knows too much, we oughtta at least eat this little morsel."

"Let me go! I have to find my family!" Fievel yelled.

"Him? Hmm…dis kid belong to either one of you's?" Warren asked Nellie and Basil.

Both of them sensed Warren was going to try to use Fievel as some sort of leverage against them to make them do what he wanted.

"I've never seen him before in my life," answered Basil.

"Liar." Warren growled, "He either belongs to one of ya's, or ya hired him to snoop on me."

"I honestly haven't the faintest clue what he was doing down here," Basil lied.

"Ya sure risked yer necks for him though, at da cost of bein' caught. So you wouldn't mind if we ate him?"

Fievel gasped, putting his hands over his mouth. Nellie bit her lip in concern, glancing toward Basil. Basil's eyes met hers, and he gave a defeated sigh.

"Yes…we would mind very much if you harmed him," Basil confessed, begrudgingly.

"Heh heh, I thought as much. Alright boys, we'll keep da kid locked up in one of da bird cages. If either of you steps outta line or tries to escape, the kid gets it. And we'll have someone watchin' ya all night long, don't you worry about dat."

The cats seemed disappointed at the news that they weren't allowed to eat any of them. But, they were obedient.

"And what about these little runts, where are we gonna stuff them?" asked Jake of Basil and Nellie.

"Put them in a cage too…but use da lock on it. I know these two are smart, probably master escape artists or somethin'. Keep a close eye on 'em. I'm less worried about da kid. And after we get a bit of shut-eye we'll go mail a letter to ol' Ratigan telling him we got his nemesis locked up and he can have him for a price."

Warren rubbed his paws together greedily, flashing his golden smile at them. Basil sighed and muttered 'Bloody hell.' under his breath.

"Then we'll have Nellie type up an article about what an upstanding citizen I am." Warren added.

Nellie gave a sickened look, though she was beginning to feel like she was going to pass out after being upside down for so long. Both she and Basil were seeing spots before their eyes as the blood rushed to their heads. Fievel in the meantime had tears welling up in his eyes.

"Wh-what are you going to do to me?" he sniffled, wiping his cheek with his sleeve as he dangled from the cats claws.

"Kiddo, you're gonna be our new pet. If yer real nice we'll even give you a little wheel to run on," Warren snickered, "Alright boys, lock 'em up. I'm gonna hit the hay."

Basil let his arms dangle disgracefully as he hung upside down. The Great Mouse Detective, defeated by a common gangster. What could be worse than this? As the three mice were taken away to the next room, Tiger looked on, biting his claws.

"Geez, that poor kid…" he said, not liking the way Fievel was being treated at all. But, could he ever find the courage to do something about it?


	16. Chapter 16

"I think I'm finally getting it…"

Basil strained and gritted his teeth as he twisted his tail in the lock, trying to get it open.

"Basil don't hurt yourself, you could break your tail," Nellie warned, putting a hand on his shoulder.

The unfortunate prisoners were locked up in a chamber filled with a huge pile of discarded bird cages. Basil had to wonder where it all came from, but this secret lair was a strange place as it was with its pianos and mirrors and stolen artifacts, not to mention the salamander thing. Fievel was in a separate cage, curled up and sobbing in a way that Basil had to admit pulled at his heartstrings, just a little, even though he pretended it just annoyed him. Their guard, Jake, was sitting in a wooden chair, his bowler hat pulled down over his eyes as he napped away; thus leading Basil to seize the chance and try to pick the lock.

"Just one more turn…" Basil said, gritting his teeth, before wincing and quickly pulling his injured tail out of the lock.

"Are you alright?" Nellie asked with concern.

"I'm lucky I didn't snap a vertebrae," Basil said gloomily, sitting down and resting his arms on his kneecaps, "Oh who am I trying to kid? What's the use? We're done for."

Nellie came to sit next to him, "Cheer up Basil, we'll think of something…"

"How could I have been so blind…so brash…so stupid? " he lamented, "It wasn't even that I was out-witted by a clever criminal genius, that I at least would be able to come to terms with…I simply succumbed to idiocy. I'm ruined! Don't you see Nellie, I'm ruined! They're going to mail me to Ratigan and I can just see the smug grin on his face now as he opens the package and I'll be so humiliated-"

"Snap out of it Basil!" Nellie scolded, "I don't want to hear you talking like that. This wasn't your fault. We got captured trying to rescue someone. We were doing the right thing."

"So you're blaming this on the boy?"

"I'm not blaming anyone. Fievel's too young to understand, and anyway listen to him, we can't go about pinning blame on him. He's suffering enough."

The poor child was sobbing into his arms miserably, quite certain that he was never going to see his family again.

"I'd rather like to join him at this moment," Basil heaved a depressed sigh.

"Do you want me to give the lock a try? You said you almost had it," Nellie offered.

"No Nellie, the mechanisms inside that lock would break any mouse's tail…we're trapped," Basil said hopelessly.

Nellie hesitantly put an arm around Basil's shoulder.

"Don't lose hope Basil," she said quietly, leaning her cheek onto his shoulder, "There's always a way, as long as one can think…"

Basil turned his gaze to her, lightly wrapping an arm around her lower back.

"And only fools are fearless."

They then heard footsteps coming into the room.

"Hey, Jake. Jake?" came the familiar voice of one of the cats, Tiger.

"Uh, yeah?" he asked, jarred awake and rubbing his eyes.

"Hey, why don't you go get some sleep. I'll take your shift," he offered.

"Oh uh, alright…" Jake said, getting up from his chair and handing the key to Tiger.

"It's the big orange cat," Basil whispered.

"Maybe we can outsmart him somehow. He never seemed as bright as the rest to me."

After trying to intimidate them, Tiger noticed Fievel's sobbing. He walked up to Fievel's cage.

"Aw come on, I didn't mean to scare ya. Come on, cheer up. Be happy," Tiger said, resting the cage on his belly.

Fievel sniffled, peeking over the side of the cage, "I can't get out of this cage, and I have to, so I can find my family…"

Tiger gasped, "You lost…your family?"

Ever sympathetic, Tiger began to cry as well, explaining how he'd lost his family too. Basil and Nellie exchanged astonished glances.

"He might just be our ticket out of here," Nellie whispered as they watched Tiger and Fievel bond.

"I must say in all my years, I never once observed a cat quite that friendly," Basil admitted, "I do believe he's affiliated with our Miss Kitty friend from the night club, perhaps we should remind him of that."

After comparing their favorite books and favorite flavors of ice cream, Tiger began to break into song, singing to Fievel as he promptly let the boy out of his cage so that they could do a song and dance number together. Basil and Nellie looked on with fascination.

"He's…he's letting the child out of the cage…so they can sing a song?"

"Nice tune, I'll have to remember it," Nellie said.

"How is he even…did he rehearse this beforehand? Is it just a song he knew by heart already?"

"You mean you never break out in song?" Nellie asked curiously.

"Spontaneously break out in song? Why, what would I have to gain from singing? It's a foolish activity when there are more important things to do, like escaping this cage."

"_If you don't lend a hand, when a hand needs lending, who will?"_ Nellie sang.

She looked to Basil, expecting him to know the next line of the song. He merely stared at her blankly, silent for a few moments.

"It must be an American thing," Basil rolled his eyes.

"So is having fun, apparently," Nellie retorted.

While Nellie and Basil were having their disagreement, Tiger and Fievel were dancing in front of a mirror that had an odd way of distorting their images. Having heard quite enough, Basil whistled to get Tiger's attention just as they were finishing up their song.

Tiger looked over, suddenly remembering the other cage. "Oh uh, I forgot about the other prisoners…"

"You should let them out too Tiger. They're nice," Fievel said, before looking at Basil, "Well, mostly nice."

"Ya know what, I think I will," Tiger said, taking his key out, "Any friend of yours is a friend of mine. I'm through listening to Warren, he's pushed me around long enough."

"Miss Kitty would be very proud of you," said Nellie with a smile.

"Sh-she would? Wait, how do you know her? And uh, how do you know that I know her?"

"We met Miss Kitty a couple of nights ago at the nightclub when we were investigating the case of the stolen artifacts that Warren purchased from Ratigan. And we were spying from above when you were there."

"Oh…well uh, since you're friends with both her and Fievel, I should really let you guys out," Tiger said, bending down and trying to fit the key into the lock.

"When a duo is made of four people, what's it called?" Fievel asked.

"A quartet, I believe," Basil answered knowingly.

"_We're a quartet! A quartet! Two pairs of lonely ones, who were meant to be a four!" _Fievel sang.

"Hm, it's harder to find things that rhyme with quartet," Tiger remarked.

"'True-o' really shouldn't count as a rhyme to 'duo' either." Basil replied sarcastically.

Finally, Tiger was able to turn the key, unlocking the door. As soon as the door unlocked, however, an alarm sounded.

"Confound it. Fievel, let's run and get a head start. The cats will be after us soon." Basil said as he jumped out of the cage, followed by Nellie. Digit was the first one to answer the alarm, fluttering after Fievel and catching his shirt, but losing grip. Basil and Nellie ran for it, following Fievel out and back into the tunnels.

Warren, still in his night gown, darted into the room with the gang.

"How did you let them get away?!" Warren demanded.

"Th-they all overpowered me, Basil outsmarted me…" Tiger stammered.

"You're fired," Warred sneered before bounding after the three of them, figuring he'd punish Tiger for this later, after they retrieved the mice.

"Good, I'm glad. I never liked you! And besides, your music stinks!"

At that moment Nellie and Basil scurried up a ladder and out of a manhole, darting after the younger and quicker Fievel, who scurried down the street before making a right turn.

"Running anywhere in particular, Mr. Mousenwich?" Basil asked as they ran down the empty streets, sometime after 5am.

"The pier! We gotta warn everyone that Warren's a cat," Fievel answered, "We gotta get the cats to the pier so we can use the secret weapon on them!"

"Secret weapon?" Nellie pondered.

"A development at that rally, perhaps?" Basil asked.

"We sure have missed out on a lot." Nellie said, huffing as she ran along.

"Yes, you'd think we've been underground this whole time or something," Basil remarked.

They could hear the gang of cats behind them. They only had to hope they were faster runners and had a big enough head start. Fievel seemed to know the way there, and the two of them followed the child down streets and through alleys until coming upon the pier, lined on either side with trash before the Digitalis Museum of the Strange and Bizarre. They scurried past the piles of trash, and into a small hole at the bottom of the wooden double doors to the building.

"Help! Tony, Bridget! The cats! The cats are here!" Fievel shouted.

Basil and Nellie took a moment to gaze up at the awe-inspiring structure standing just behind the doors.

"Did…did they build that thing?" Nellie asked.

"It seems to be some sort of mechanical monster," Basil remarked, "Such ingenuity…what could their plan be I wonder?"

"We should follow Fievel," said Nellie, "Someone will tell us what's going on here."

"Right, very well then," Basil said, running ahead.

Fievel's yells were causing the sleeping mice to stir, and soon enough, a kazoo sounded.

"Help! The cats are here! Wake up!" Fievel yelled.

"Oh no, zey're early!" came the voice of Gussie Mausheimer, stationed on lookout near an upstairs window, next to an alarm clock.

"Gussie Mausheimer is that you up there?" Nellie asked.

She looked down, "Oh Newwie Bwie, it's you! Vhat's going on, why are ze cats here so soon?!"

"Partly our fault I'm afraid," answered Basil.

The kazoo sounded again, and mice around the building began to stir.

"We have a pwan to deal with ze's cats, but it depends on zem being in fwont of zis building when ze boat whistle blows. We will need to stall zem!"

Basil stroked his chin, looking back at the enormous animatronic creature they'd constructed. Already he could deduce what their plan was. If the cats were dumb enough to fall for it, which it was very likely they were, the plan would be a success.

Police officers began making their rounds, waking mice up and instructing them to gather on the roof of the building, and to bring things they could throw.

"Come Nellie, the game's afoot. Let us follow the other mice up to the roof, I daresay things are about to get fairly interesting."

"This might just be the scoop of the century, and I'm right here to witness it!" Nellie said excitedly, as the two of them followed the other mice upstairs and through a window.


	17. Chapter 17

The mice of New York gathered in a crowd above the museum as below, Warren's gang of marauding cats stood menacingly, carrying wooden clubs and licking their teeth hungrily. In front of them stood Warren, still in his night gown but having had time to put his rat disguise back on. Basil frowned. Why did anyone fall for that thing? Fievel stood near Gussie, Nellie and Basil. While coming up to the roof he'd found Tony Toponi as well, though he and Bridget had gotten separated in the crowd.

"What's all this then? Was I not invited to da slumber party?" Warren asked.

"What do you want, you wat?" Gussie asked.

"He's not a rat, he's a cat! He's their boss!" Fievel yelled.

"It's true, we saw him with out own eyes!" Basil said, pointing an accusing finger at Warren, "He is clearly too big to be a rat, he lacks the buck teeth, his nose is all wrong, and the ears are prosthetic."

"I had my doubts at first Gussie, but I saw it too," Nellie vouched, "We watched him take his disguise off when we found his lair, filled with the missing artifacts from the British museum. Basil's absolutely right."

Warren scowled, "Pay no attention to that kid or the detective. Just throw down all your money, and hand over the kid, the detective, and the reporter Nellie Brie. And I'll personally convince these cats to leave you alone."

"It's zere word against yours Wawwen, and I think Basil and Newwie are more twustworthy zan you, what do you all think?"

The mice in the crowd cheered and began to hurl things at the cats once again. Tony took aim with a slingshot, and with precision he knocked Warren's fake nose off.

"Bullseye!" Tony shouted.

"My my, excellent shot dear chap."

"Great whiskers he's a cat!" many in the crowd exclaimed.

"Disregard the nose. What's in a nose? A nose by any other name would smell as sweet-"

Tony promptly shot his ears off as well, revealing his pointed cat ears.

"There, now do you believe us?" Basil asked.

"Hey hey, who are you gonna believe, me or your own eyes?" Warren asked.

The crowd wasn't buying it. They began to hurl things at Warren. Nellie gave a satisfied grin. Finally, they were going to stand up to that robber baron.

"Then I take it we can't do business," Warren said threateningly.

"Wawwen you're thwough. Washed up. Wuined! You'll never get another cent fwom any mouse, anywhere."

"Oh yeah? We'll just see about dat." Warren said, "Just wait you little rat…"

Nellie and Basil watched as he walked toward the building.

"He's planning something…" Basil said.

Warren chuckled and took out a match, striking it on his teeth. "Adios!"

He set a nearby box of cotton ablaze, and the fire quickly spread. The mice above panicked.

"It's just what he did to the old orphanage. I knew he was behind that," Nellie said.

"Our only way out is to open those doors in front so everyone can escape," Basil said, before gazing up at the slowly brightening sky, "We should be able to do that right about…now."

The whistle on the Star of Hong Kong blew. It was 6am.

"Wewease, ze secwet, weapon!"

However; the process was stalled, as they'd already been working to restrain the machine after almost setting it off early.

"Should we be downstairs?" Nellie asked, "What about the fire?"

"I'm not sure," said Basil, "Perhaps we should take Fievel and go down to-"

Basil looked around the crowd of fleeing mice. Fievel was nowhere to be found.

"I really hate it when he does that," Basil said irritably, "We are going to buy a leash for that boy, Nellie."

"He's enough to elude even England's greatest mouse detective," Nellie mused.

"I wouldn't go that far. He must have gone downstairs with most of the others. Let's see if we can't spot him somewhere."

Taking Nellie's hand the two of them pushed their way through the crowd and back into the building. The fire was beginning to spread as mice worked hard to try and cut the ropes and undo the knots that were holding the machine back. A few mice walked by with some large scissors.

"Hey you two, give us a hand won't you?" a mouse asked.

Basil looked to Nellie, "I suppose we ought to help. We'll find Fievel once this is all said and done."

Taking opposite sides, Basil and Nellie plus two other mice worked to slice through the thick rope. Their progress was slow, however.

"Wewease, ze secwet, weapon!" Gussie yelled again.

Nellie and Basil strained and put all their muscle into pushing the scissors. However, another rope gave way, and the machine lurched forward, pulling the rope they were trying to cut along with it and knocking the scissors out of their hands. A loud roar rumbled from the mechanical beast as it pushed against the wooden double doors, blowing away most of the flames and causing the door to crack and break.

"By jove, that thing is terrifying…" Basil said in awe.

Soon it burst through the doors, as Warren's gang stood dumbfounded. Basil and Nellie scurried toward the door as the machine rolled forward.

"It's the Giant Mouse of Minsk!" Warren screamed.

"The Giant Mouse…aha, yes old Russian folktale," Basil said knowingly, "Now that makes sense. I wonder where they came up with an idea like that."

"How many Russians do you know?" Nellie asked, having already guessed whose idea it was.

The Giant Mouse of Minsk careened forward, as mice shot firecrackers at any of the cats who strayed off course. The cats were cornered at the edge of the pier, until, with the Giant Mouse coming at them and mice evacuating the beast via parachutes, they were forced to plunge into the water. Once the coast was clear Basil and Nellie followed the other mice to the end of the pier. A great cheer arose from the crowd, along with a chorus of "There Are No Cats in America".

"They do realize those weren't the only cats in America, don't they?"

"Oh hush and let them have their celebration, Basil," Nellie said, "So much for putting Warren in jail though."

"He's headed for Hong Kong by the looks of things. I think karma will have it's way with him there," Basil said with amusement.

"Oh? By that do you mean he's probably going to end up on someone's chow mein plate?"

"Precisely." Basil said with a smirk, "At any rate, I'd say that very abruptly wraps up this case."

They then overheard Honest John proclaim "We owe it all to Filly Mousekewitz, and his Giant Mouse of Minsk!"

"With just one loose end…" Nellie said, casting a gaze at Basil.

Basil pondered for a moment, before giving a sigh, "Oh alright. Let's try to find Fievel's family."

"As soon as we find Fievel that is," Nellie said, looking around for wherever the boy had gone off to.

"If he'd been in the crowd someone would have lifted him up or something like that…let's see if he's wandering around here somewhere."

Nellie and Basil walked back toward the museum, away from the crowd. As they walked, Basil sniffed the air.

"What is it?" Nellie asked.

"It smells like…" he sniffed again, "…kerosene."

The ground was damp with leaked kerosene from the garbage piles on the pier. And lingering embers from Warren's fire earlier were just beginning to creep toward it. Basil took Nellie's hand suddenly and darted back down the pier, nearly pulling her off her feet. But moments later, the fire spread across the very ground they'd been standing on.

"Oh my…the museum!" Nellie exclaimed, as flames began to climb up its walls.

The crowd of mice began to panic and disperse as the inferno grew and roared.

"Basil, what if Fievel's still in there?"

"Let's hope he isn't." Basil said, staring at the building, "I don't know how we'd be able to get in there…"

"Filly!" came a yell nearby.

Basil turned his head as crowds of mice streamed by, seeing two familiar mice forcing their way against the motion of the crowd.

"Mr. Toponi, was it? Over here!" Basil waved his arms to gain their attention.

Tony turned, seeing Basil and Nellie, and ran toward them, Bridget following behind.

"Hey ya seen Filly anywhere? I lost track of him!"

"You mean Fievel?" Basil asked.

"Yeah him," Tony answered.

"We lost him too," said Nellie, "Why don't we search together?"

"He just betta not be in dat building…" Tony said worriedly.

The four of them pushed against the crowds and searched around for several minutes, looking for any clue they could find of the lost child, calling for both 'Filly' and 'Fievel', and occasionally 'Fievel Mousenwrench' or some variant from Basil. Soon the sound of sirens pierced through the air as mice scurried away from a barrage of horse hooves. Human firefighters had arrived on the scene with fire hoses.

"Look out! Don't get washed away!" Tony called out as water sprayed in their direction.

The four of them darted the other way, taking refuge under the wagon until they could plan their next move. Tony hadn't stopped calling for Filly.

Bridget's eyes scanned the area, before suddenly stopping on a very important clue.

"It's his hat!" she said, bending down to pick it up.

"Fievel!" Tony shouted, hoping he'd hear them over all the noise.

"If I may, Bridget," Basil asked, holding his hand out, before she handed the hat to him.

"He must be around here somewhere," Nellie said.

"The hat is rather wet, it could have washed in this direction from anywhere after the humans started spraying the hoses," Basil said, handing it back to Bridget, "And we don't know when he lost his hat either."

"Let's keep searchin' then," Tony said as he scurried from beneath the wagon. The others followed him.

"Perhaps he had the presence of mind to flee with the crowd," Basil suggested, as they made their way toward a gutter, with a storm drain in the side of it.

"Maybe he's in here…" Tony said, and the four of them climbed through the metal grating.

"Excuse me."

Everyone turned around, seeing a large, bearded mouse and a little girl in a dress enter after them, followed soon by a middle-aged woman.

"You are calling for a Filly Mousekewitz, correct? Tell my daughter his name is Filly and not Fievel!"

Basil and Nellie exchanged glances. Could it be?

"His name is Filly," Tony replied.

"You see?" The man said to his daughter.

"And Fievel," Tony finished.

The man was taken aback for a moment.

"Aha…well now, Mr. Mousenwich-"

"Mousekewitz," Nellie corrected.

"Whatever-you wouldn't happen to be missing someone who goes by the name of Fievel, eh? About as tall as my knee? Wears a big blue hat and loves to disappear on you all the time, thinks every violin in the world is being played by his Papa?"

"It is Fievel! I knew it!" Tanya said, her eyes lighting up.

"But zere could be hundreds of Fievel's in New York. Maybe thousands! It could still be another Fievel Mousekewitz."

"No Papa…look…" said Mama Mousekewitz, holding up Fievel's hat after Bridget handed it to her.

Papa was speechless, "Oh…oh my Lord…"

"See? I knew it! He's alive! Nobody ever listens to me," Tanya said, folding her arms.

"Alright then Basil, we've got one half of this mystery solved," Nellie said with a smirk, "Now we've just got to find Fievel."

"The rest will be quite elementary, I assure you," Basil said.


	18. Chapter 18

"So you say our son has been searching for us, all this time?" Papa still couldn't believe it.

"Yeah, I first met him in a sweat shop, "Tony replied, "He's da one who helped bust me outta there. I figured I owed him one. Me and Bridget have been takin' care of him since then, we was lookin' all over for you."

"And how did you two meet him?" Papa asked Basil and Nellie.

"I first met the boy when he wandered into my room, led there by my violin. Nellie and I have been having chance encounters with the boy ever since, most recently when we went to find Warren's lair."

"We wanted to help reunite him with you as soon as we were done with our case…which we are now," Nellie added.

"And vhen did you last see Fievel?"

"He was right with us when we was facin' off wit' Warren. And he musta ran off around when Warren set off dat fire," Tony answered.

"That was the last time I saw him too," Basil concurred.

"We were inside the Mouse of Minsk then," said Tanya.

"But the museum is on fire…you don't think Fievel could still be…" Mama wore a worried expression.

"When we found his hat it was well outside of the museum," Basil assured her, "I think he escaped the inferno. However as soon as those humans are done hosing it down I could go back to look for clues."

"Have you done zis kind of thing before?" Papa asked.

"Oh of course, dear sir. I am Basil of Baker Street, England's premier mouse detective," he said, straightening his coat and wearing a proud expression.

"H-hey, could I help?" came a voice from outside.

Everyone turned, seeing Tiger the cat peering at them from outside. Everyone but Nellie and Basil screamed.

"Hey don't run! I-I I'm not like those other cats! I'm friendly! Fievel's my buddy!"

"Don't be afraid of him, he helped free us from Warren," Nellie assured everyone.

"But…he's a cat," Papa said fearfully.

"Yeah, and a big one!" added Tony.

"I can't help it, I was born a cat," Tiger said, "But I never eat mice."

"You're wearin' one o' those t-shirts from Warren's gang," Bridget pointed out accusingly, "Ya didn't make it on the ship?"

"Warren fired me from his gang just before he uh, went on his little cruise," Tiger said sheepishly, "I came down here to find Fievel and help him, but I didn't know all this would happen."

"What I wanna know is if you're supposedly so nice what was ya doin' hangin' around with Warren to begin wit'?" Tony asked, folding his arms.

"I fell in with the wrong crowd, honest. I was always an alley cat. It's rough living in the streets. Especially if you're a cat who isn't fond of red meat. If you weren't with the Mott Street Maulers then you were against them, and they saw that I was big so they took me in and used me as their muscle…but I hated doing such horrible things, like threatening mice for money…I was just…too cowardly to say no…"

"Until tonight," Nellie added, "You went against orders and you rescued Fievel, and then Basil and I. You turned your whole life around. From now on you're going to be good, and you'll start by helping us find Fievel, won't you?"

Tiger nodded with pleading eyes.

"Well then, I trust him," Basil said, "How about all of you?"

"Yeah well, I don't make a habit outta befriendin' cats but, eh I guess we could use da help…" Tony conceded.

"A friendly cat? Vhat else could ve find in zis strange country?" Papa said.

Tanya giggled and walked up to Tiger, "I'm Fievel's sister, Tanya."

"Nice to meet you! You do look like him. I'm so glad we've got his family right here," Tiger said, as they all walked out of the storm drain.

"It looks like the humans have stopped the flames. Perhaps we ought to search for clues at the museum," said Basil.

"He better not still be zere…" Mama said worriedly.

"Hopefully he isn't," Basil said, grabbing onto Tiger's fur and climbing him, "But maybe we'll find footprints, or some other clue that will lead us in the right direction."

"We're gonna ride him now?" Tony asked.

"Easy transportation. I ride a dog all the time back in London," Basil said.

"Guess you're callin' da shots, detective," Tony said as he climbed on too, and the rest of the mice climbed onto Tiger's back, with Nellie behind Basil.

"Alright then, to the museum," Tiger said, proud that he'd been able to convince the mice that he was their friend.

The museum was charred and in ruins after the fire had been put out. Human policemen were at the scene, attempting to figure out just what had caused the blaze. Most of them were dumbfounded by the piles of trash on the pier, which hadn't been there earlier. But of course, none of them would ever figure out just what had happened. Nor did any of them seem to notice a big orange cat in a t-shirt carrying several clothed mice on his back. Sifting through the debris, Basil and Nellie weren't able to find much when it came to Fievel's whereabouts, until Basil came about some footprints in silt left behind from the water hoses which seemed like they might have been made by a young boy. There'd been hundreds of mice at the scene, but most of them had not been near the museum once it erupted in flames; so this was the closest thing to a clue about Fievel that they had. At least, it was the only clue that pointed to his surviving the fire. Luckily, they didn't come across any charred bodies, thus, Basil concluded, it was best to assume that the boy lived, much to the relief of his parents.

"So…vhat do ve do now?" Papa asked, disappointed that they were no closer to finding Fievel than before.

"Hm, what indeed," Basil paced back and forth in front of Tiger, looking down at the tiny three-toed footprints, "The boy could be anywhere in the city."

"Maybe I'll find Gussie Mausheimer or Honest John, and ask them if they know where Fievel went, or if they can help us find him," Bridget suggested.

"Good idea Bridget, we need all the help we can get," Nellie said, "And I think they owe Fievel this much."

"Yes, you go ahead and do that. As for us Nellie, I think we'll need to stop by the apartment again. I have something I need to fetch."

"Oh? What's so important that we need to go all the way back there for it?" Nellie asked.

"I need to fetch my violin," Basil said.

"Your violin? What would you need that for?" Nellie asked, scratching her head.

"The plan is simple. If Fievel chases after every violin in New York, thinking it's his father, well then with two of us playing we'll double our chances of finding him."

"Basil that idea is perfect!" Tanya said happily, turning to her father, "Papa, you could teach Basil Fievel's song!"

"He has a song?" Basil asked.

"Yes, it's a song I composed especially for him, if he hears it he'll know it's me," Papa said, "Ve don't have any time to lose, ve need to go home to get my violin too."

"Very well then, we'll split up and get our violins, and meet back at Tammany Hall where we'll present our case to Gussie Mausheimer or Honest John. And perhaps if you've written sheet music for Fievel's melody, you can give that to me."

"I can write it vhile ve're there." Papa offered.

"Good. Come Nellie, let us get this plan underway. The sooner the better."

* * *

As the day wore on, and faded into evening and night, storm clouds rolled over New York, thundering overhead and bringing with them heavy rains. Yet this did not deter the intrepid search party. Gussie had been so moved by Fievel's tale that she opted to join the search, riding on back of the misfit feline Tiger along with Fievel's family, and Tony and Bridget. The group went down every street and alley in the city, Papa playing Fievel's song all the way, hoping to draw him out of hiding.

Meanwhile, Nellie and Basil were doing the same, but on their own, hoping to cover more ground. The two parties were to meet back at Tammany Hall in the morning, to see if either of them had had any luck. Nellie wore a rain jacket and held an umbrella over Basil as he played his violin. She also kept the sheet music Papa had hastily written down for Basil. It had taken Basil a little while to master the tune fully, but he eventually got the hang of the melancholy little Russian tune.

"What a horrible night to be lost in the big city," Nellie sighed, rain pelting the umbrella as Basil played, "Fievel must be so frightened."

"Let's hope he's still listening for his father," Basil said, "I must confess, it is somewhat alarming that we haven't found him yet. It never took him this long to appear before when there was a violin playing. And now we're actually playing his song."

"I wonder if the others have had any luck," Nellie said.

"I suppose we won't know until morning," Basil said with a yawn, "Confound that child. Just how many more nights of sleep do I have to lose over this case?"

"We have to keep searching. I just feel sorry for any child outside on a night like this."

As they turned to go down another alley, Basil blinked and yawned again, feeling bags under his eyes. His hands ached after playing for so long, his neck ached from keeping the violin beneath his chin.

"You do look like you could use a little rest, Basil," Nellie said.

"Me? Oh no…I'm fine…" Basil uttered with a groan.

Nellie smirked and led him over to a small hay pile, protected from the rain by a plank of wood hanging over a box.

"We'll rest for just a little while." Nellie said, folding her umbrella and sitting down, patting the spot next to her, "Besides, you're starting to squeak some of those notes. If you get any more exhausted Fievel will think you're Warren and he'll run away."

Basil collapsed on his back in the hay, sending hay floating in the air. Nellie brushed it out of her face.

"I'll be lucky if I don't get carpal tunnel syndrome after tonight," Basil said drowsily, putting his violin aside as his muscles ached.

"We'll rest for say, half an hour, hm?" Nellie suggested, "Just think about how cold, wet and lonesome Fievel must be right now. We can't afford to waste too much time."

"What about how cold, wet, and tired I am?" Basil groaned.

Nellie stroked his cheek some, "At least you're not lonesome."

"Well, I suppose you're right on that count," Basil said with a small grin.

Nellie laid back on the hay beside him.

"I've had as little sleep as you, you know. I've just been trying not to think about how tired I am…"

"I know that, Nellie."

She gently scooted closer, curling up against him and resting her head against his chest.

"We'll just…rest for a little while…" she said with a yawn.

Basil wrapped an arm around her, "Indeed, Nellie. We'll be far more alert if we rest up a bit…"

Nellie giggled sleepily, bringing her face up and sneaking a small peck on Basil's lips, before cuddling against him again. Basil's eyes widened and he blinked. But Nellie was just laying there with her eyes closed as if nothing happened, a mischievous smile on her face.

"Steal a kiss from a detective, will you? I always catch my criminals, down to the pettiest of thieves."

"I think I'll just turn myself in then, no use trying to get away with that," Nellie murmured with her eyes closed, "Of course, you could always steal the kiss back…"

"Very well then, prisoner. I believe I will," Basil lifted her chin up gently, and kissed her.

Nellie giggled after the kiss, her cheeks going pink as she nuzzled into Basil's chest, and they rested together in the soft pile of hay as the rain pelted against the wooden plank above them, keeping them dry. Unfortunately, they became so comfortable that they slipped into a peaceful slumber shortly thereafter, succumbing to almost two full nights without any sleep.


	19. Chapter 19

"Basil, Basil wake up!" Nellie said, shaking Basil gently.

"Ugh…oh, we…we fell asleep?" Basil said, blinking and rubbing his head.

He looked up at the sky, the dark blue tinge of early dawn reflected on the clouds. The rain was letting up.

"Far longer than we were supposed to. It's almost morning," Nellie said disappointedly.

"And not long enough to cure my drowsiness either," Basil groaned, grabbing his violin, "We might as well take advantage of what time we have, before heading back to Tammany Hall."

"I know we still haven't looked everywhere," Nellie said, unfolding her umbrella and holding her hand out to help Basil to his feet, "We're just too comfortable together for our own good."

Basil smirked, brushing hay off his coat, "We can't let that get in the way of work. At least, not to excess, right?"

"Right, Basil," Nellie answered with a smile, "Let's go."

The two of them made their way down the wet alley, Basil placing the violin beneath his chin again and playing Fievel's song.

"Where should we go next?" Basil asked.

"I don't know, wherever there may be enough shelter from the rain," Nellie said, "We might look someplace where there are a lot of homeless mice…"

"Are there many homeless encampments in New York?" Basil asked.

"There are a few," Nellie said with regret, "Terrible places to be on a rainy night, that's for sure."

"Especially for a child, alone," Basil said, as they wandered through the streets and alleys.

"I'm going to lead us to one in particular…it's a big one, but we might have some luck," Nellie said.

As they turned a corner, they came face to face with just what they'd been discussing.

"It looks like Fievel's not the only child out there either," Nellie remarked, as they beheld the sight before them.

They'd stumbled into a massive camp of young orphaned mice, huddled beneath cardboard boxes or anything they could use as shelter. The area was wide open, lit looked as if perhaps there'd been a building there once.

"It's Orphan Alley. The saddest place in the city," Nellie said softly, "So many broken dreams here…"

"As good a place as any to find Fievel," Basil said.

Basil continued to play loudly as he walked through the encampment, much to the annoyance of some of the orphans who were trying to get some sleep.

"I should do an article on this place," Nellie said, looking around in disgust and pity, "There's no excuse for so many innocent young mice to be living in such squalor."

"I do believe there was a building here once, yes?" Basil asked as he looked around, noticing that it seemed more like a vacant lot than an alley, and seeing the telltale signs of the foundations of a building.

"Oh, that's right. There was an orphanage here once, but, well, they failed to pay Warren's protection money. The next day, there was a 'mysterious' fire. Too bad for the human orphans too."

"It's a good thing we got rid of him," Basil said, as they made their way through the vacant lot, Basil's violin echoing across the alley for the next several minutes. The light was increasing as dawn broke. Nellie was finally able to fold her umbrella up as the rain stopped. But, still they had no luck finding Fievel.

"I don't know if he's even here," Nellie said, "He'd have heard us by now."

"Let's head to the far corner and we'll move on," Basil suggested, as they walked toward a broken window pane in the distance, playing Fievel's song all the while.

"I can't stand to be in this depressing place much longer," Nellie sighed, "I'm going to make sure something's done about this slum-Basil!"

"Hmm?" Basil asked nonchalantly, looking over at Nellie.

"Basil…beneath that window pane. I…I think I see something."

Basil blinked and squinted at the spot.

"Aha…Nellie, this way."

He played his violin louder as they walked toward what appeared to be a figure curled up in a puddle, wearing a red sweatshirt. His ears seemed to perk up, catching the melody Basil was playing, and slowly, he lifted his head and looked toward them.

"Papa…?"

"Fievel!" Nellie called out, "Fievel we found you!"

Nellie and Basil ran toward him. But, the boy simply curled back up again.

"Fievel, we've been looking all night for you! You'll never guess who we found," Nellie said enthusiastically, kneeling down toward him, "Why are you sleeping here anyway? You're not an orphan."

"Yes I am," he whispered.

Basil and Nellie looked to each other.

"Don't be preposterous, boy," Basil said, "Didn't you recognize the tune I was just playing on my violin? How do you think I knew that tune?"

Fievel was quiet, "I'll never see them again…never…"

Fievel sniffled and buried his face in his sleeves. Nellie nearly felt like crying for him.

"Fievel. Get up out of that puddle before you catch cold," Nellie said, stroking his head gently, "Let Basil and I take you to Tammany Hall. We have a big surprise waiting for you."

"This is my home now," Fievel said softly, his voice cracking.

"Now you see here child, I've had just about enough of this foolish-"

Nellie put her finger to her lips to silence Basil. Basil stopped, and exhaled irritably.

"My family doesn't wanna find me…" Fievel said.

"Now where'd you get such an idea?" Nellie asked.

Fievel pointed over at the three boys nearby, sleeping on hay. Obviously they hadn't shared the spot with Fievel. Basil recognized two of them from the sweatshop he'd liberated.

"Don't listen to them, Fievel," Nellie said, "They may have lost hope but that doesn't mean you have to."

Fievel didn't answer. Basil felt like just picking him up and dragging him there, but he had a feeling he better let Nellie handle the situation.

"Come on Fievel. Please? You won't be sorry," Nellie said, rubbing Fievel's back.

Fievel sniffled, seeming to fight back tears. But then, his ears perked up.

"S-stop playing that violin," he said shakily, "It's not my papa…you're not my papa…"

"What? I'm not playing any…wait."

Basil's ears perked up too. In the distance, they could hear another violin playing Fievel's song. Fievel looked up at Basil, seeing that he wasn't the one playing it. Fievel got up slowly, and staggered toward the direction of the violin. Soon they could also hear voices, calling his name.

"Papa…" Fievel mouthed, barely audible.

"They're here." Nellie said with a bright smile, standing up.

Basil gave a grin too, "Let's follow the little chap, shall we?"

"Papa!" Fievel called out, as the two of them kept up, keeping a distance but not letting him out of their sight.

The playing stopped, and they heard the voice of Fievel's father, calling out his name. Nellie and Basil had to pick up the pace to keep up with Fievel now who was darting among the discarded trash and splashing through puddles. Until finally, at long last, Fievel and his Papa caught sight of each other, and Fievel jumped into his arms, causing them to fall into a puddle with a splash, hugging one another.

Nellie dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief from her pocket, as Basil looked on with a smile. Fievel's family and friends soon filtered through the surrounding debris. Though with the warm morning sunlight filtering in through the scene, it was easy to forget this tearful reunion was taking place in a dirty alley. Gussie found herself hugging an overjoyed feline, Tony and Bridget celebrated with a kiss, and the Mousekewitz family shared a magical reunion with their lost boy.

Nellie hugged Basil tight and wiped her joyful tears on his chest, as he hugged her back, still holding his violin.

"Another case closed, hm?" Nellie said, looking up at him with a smile.

"Indeed, Nellie. I couldn't have asked for a better assistant either," he said warmly, "I'll have to remember to thank Honest John for that wonderful body guard he loaned me."

Nellie chuckled, and brought Basil down for a long, loving kiss. After breaking the kiss, they gazed into one another's eyes lovingly. Falling in love had been the last thing either of them expected when they took this case on, but with the aid of a lost little boy, it seemed fate had other plans.

Fievel and his family approached the two of them, Fievel clinging to his father's hand tightly as if he could lose them again at any second. He was now wearing his hat once again, proudly lifting it with his ears so that it fit.

"Basil and Nellie, I vant to thank you for bringing my son back to me," Papa said.

"Oh…you would have found him if we hadn't," Basil said modestly, "We really had just found him ourselves…"

"Even so Mr. Basil, for all your help, I vant to give you this,"

Papa presented Basil with his violin. Nellie, grinned, taking Basil's violin from his hands as Basil took Papa's.

"Oh…why thank you good sir." Basil said, examining it, "Hm yes, very fine craftsmanship."

"It is one of my finest violins. I make zem for a living you know. It's a genuine Mousekewitz violin."

"Thank you, Basil and Nellie…for trying to save me from Warren, and then helping to find me…" Fievel said.

"Any time Fievel," Nellie said with a giggle.

"Yes, now you stay close to your parents from now on, won't you? I don't want to have to be called on the case to find you again," Basil said.

Fievel smiled, "I'm not going anywhere. I'm staying close to my family from now on. I'll never ever wander off by myself again, I promise."

"Why do I get the feeling you're going to forget that promise by tomorrow?" Tanya asked.

* * *

"Check the sewers beneath Mott Street for the missing artifacts stolen from the British Museum, signed Basil of Baker Street and Nellie Brie?" a human police chief exclaimed when he read the note left on his desk the next morning as he came in for work, "What is this, some kinda gag?"

"I dunno Chief, I read about those robberies in the paper," said another cop, "No one knows who did it or where the artifacts went. Might be worth checking out."

"Nellie Brie…you don't think they mean Nellie Bly the newspaper reporter do you?" the Chief asked.

"Probably some kind of anonymous tip-off, signed with an alias."

"What I wanna know is how they got in here overnight. The place was all locked up," the chief took his hat off, and scratched his head.

"I dunno, maybe they came in through the rat holes in the floorboards," the cop joked.

"Heh heh, yeah that's a good one. Come on, let's get someone to look into this," said the police chief.

Little did they know, two pairs of tiny eyes were spying on them from one of those very rat holes the cop joked about.

"And that officially wraps up this case," Basil said proudly, folding his arms.

"It was all very elementary, of course," Nellie said with a grin, "So, what's next for London's greatest mouse detective, hm?"

Basil stroked his chin, "You know, now that I think about it…a vacation doesn't seem so bad."

"Vacation? You?" Nellie chuckled, "Are you the real Basil?"

"I normally don't have time for such extravagances with criminals lurking about…but I think I could at least afford…maybe a week…or two…"

"Better hope Ratigan doesn't take the crown of England while you're gone." Nellie joked.

"Ha, like that could happen," Basil rolled his eyes, "I know he's out there though…and I will have to return to England…"

"I know…and there's still work to be done in New York," Nellie said, looking down.

"But…after I've done away with Ratigan…"

"…and after I feel like my work here is done…I'll come to London," Nellie promised, "And I'll try to get a newspaper job there."

"It could take years, you know," Basil said, putting his hands on her shoulders, "Is a neurotic, bipolar, antisocial, obsessive compulsive detective really worth waiting for?"

"Of course. Because I'm the only one in the world who could put up with you, and you're the only one in the world who could put up with me," Nellie said with a smile, "We'll be absolutely miserable together, I hope you know that."

"And I wouldn't miss it for the world," Basil replied.

"We'll get plenty or practice these next two weeks," Nellie said, wrapping her arms around him, "Come on Basil, let's head back to the apartment and get started."

She reached up and gave him a kiss as they embraced one another, and then, with an arm around one another, the detective and the reporter headed down the tunnel and out of the building, anticipating the much-deserved time off together.

**The End**


End file.
